


Precious Booty

by thatkidryder



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Angst, Bad Puns, Bath Sex, Begging, Biting, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon-Typical Violence, Collars, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Fluff, Kissing, Licking, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Magic, Non-Binary Apprentice, Other, Past Torture, Penetrative Sex, Pirate AU, Pirates, Pre-Canon, Scratching, Sex Toys, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Vibrators, body horror?, comedy???, emotional control that no one should romanticize or emulate, less bad jokes but they are still bad jokes, like seriously there's a really bad pun, non-gendered apprentice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatkidryder/pseuds/thatkidryder
Summary: Pre-Canon Pirate!Apprentice AUSet after Julian's escape from Vesuvia. Captain Mazelinka leaves her trusty First Mate in charge of her ship, and her idiot. This swash-buckling apprentice just needs to get Julian to go the fuck to sleep....





	1. this is the 1st chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Canon Pirate!Apprentice AU
> 
> Mazekinka leaves her trusty First Mate in charge of her ship, and her idiot. The swash-buckling actual pirate disaster apprentice needs to get Julian to go the fuck to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a really bad pun in this
> 
> -edit 6/25-  
> ret-conned a few minor details and grammatical mistakes(there are probably more. there are definitely more)

It matters little to you who the lanky, eye patch wearing, red haired man that that Captain Mazelinka has smuggled out of Vesuvia actually is, until the Captain declares that she is taking a shore leave for whatever reason (“Business. That’s all you need to know.”) and saddles you with him. Perks of being First Mate, right? Sure, the loot and the friends you make along the way are great and all, but _baby-sitting_? Every killer-thief-vagabond-ruffian’s dream. So you were thrilled when the Captain implied your time that would have been well spent drinking, leading sea-shanties, and with a good enough headwind some light whoring, was to be shelved for the indeterminate future.

  

She calls you to her quarters for a briefing, beckoning you to take a seat on the small bench in front of her desk. You take in the familiar ambiance of the room: baubles and books acquired over the years of piracy decorate the walls and shelves. There is a private store of wines, fruits, and other more coveted rations. The Captain’s bed- the only bed- on the entire ship, is adorned with less than fresh sheets and blankets, but compared to a hammock and a few moth eaten rags, it’s luxury. The window above it shows the sea furrowed in the wake of the ship. The desk has been cleared, aside form a steaming pot that gives off a savory, spiced sent. The Captain sprinkles a pale blue powder in and the mix, which gives off a puff of yellow smoke, bubbles loudly, and settles. You take a seat, stretching one leg out and tucking the other up underneath you like the queer disaster you are, and wait. Mazelinka adds a few more herbs and off-color spices to the mix, and finally turns to face you.

“Taken up witchcraft again, Cap’n?” You ask with a cheeky grin. Mazelinka smiles her crooked smile.

“You’re implying I ever gave it up. Heheheheh. This here’s enough to last while I’m away and longer. One bowl every night outta do it.” She says. You slide down the length of the bench until you are looking at her upside down, melancholy.

“You’re expecting me to feed your pet?” You frown. Your interactions with the Doctor have been strained thus far at best. From what you can tell, there is something about you that unsettles him to the point of avoidance. Every time you go below-deck, he is suddenly inspired to help with the sails. If you are in the rigging, he’s needed in the living quarters to tend to a sudden onset of scurvy. “I dunno Captain, the Doc avoids me like I’m carrying that plague. Pretty sure he’d think anything coming from me was poison.” You say. Mazelinka laughs.

“You might need to shackle him and force it down his throat, but Gods help us if we don’t get that idiot to sleep. He’s been keeping the rest of the crew up with his pacing and he’s no use to anyone with hands too shaky to suture a wound!” She says with a grin. You smile back at her. The Doctor was as odd one for sure, but it hadn’t escaped you that the Captain sure was happier since he’d been around.

“As long as I’ve got your permission.” You wink. “So this a sleeping potion? Oh my gods you’re asking me to drug the Doctor.” You sit up in sudden realization and feign horror, coving your mouth, aghast. It wouldn’t be the worst thing you’d done on behalf of Mazelinka, but up until now your sketchy dealings hadn't been _internal._

“Oh come off it.” She shakes her spoon at you, threateningly. “He used to drink it willingly enough so long as it’s ‘soup’ and not a ‘potion’, but he’s indignant to drive himself to exhaustion this time rather than risk some bad dreams.” She stands, and slings a bag over her shoulder as she makes her way to the door. She takes her hat, adorned with beads, feathers, and other trinkets from past journeys, and turns to face you, smiling with warmth and mischief. “I can’t stop running our operation to tuck him in every night. So for now, that’s your job.” You stare at her from the bench, draped over it backwards now, and sigh.

“You’re sure you don’t need me to just toss him in the brig for a week until he passes out? Then he would sleep _and_ I could see that lovely girl from that one tavern. You know, the one with tits like THIS.” You gesture with your hands as though you are holding a substantial volume of tit. Mazelinka tugs a bead from her hat and takes one of your hands, into which she tucks the trinket. You look up at her, unable to hold a grudge. You owe her a lot- not everyone trusts a vigilante wanted for blood, and she picked you up off the ground when the rest of the world would have let you rot.

“I think you’ll find Ilya very compliant once you figure out how to treat him.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “Might even not miss that tavern girl so much.” She says. That does change things a _little_ , you suppose, but giving her blessing to possible escapades wasn’t the same thing as a pocket full of coins and a bottle full of booze. Still, if Mazelinka thinks you’re the person for the job, you’ll give it your best shot.

 

____

 

You stand at the bow, watching Mazelinka disappear into the crowded shore-side market, and tip your hat to block the sun. You turn from the helm to survey your crew, already hard at work heaving ropes to adjust the sails for the course due South. The spindly red head is, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be seen. You frown and think on your mission from Mazelinka. You figure there were two options: you can summon the quartermaster and have them inform Doctor Devorak he is to dine with you in the Captain’s quarters tonight, or you can call all hands to deck and inform him yourself. One option is far less effort than the other, and you figure the crew will appreciate being informed that you won’t be joining them on their night of revelry sooner rather than later. It also occurs to you the Doctor might simply _ignore_ a private invitation, but calling him out in front of a crowd will provide you allies to steer your slippery quarry true. You approach the railing and tug the lapels of your coat to attention. A Captain must have their look en’point.

“ALL HANDS!” You bellowed from deep in your chest. The cry echos through the crew- folk drop what they are doing and draw others to attention. People filter down from the rigging and up from the ship’s belly until finally you see a dark, long shape trying to hide away towards the aft of the ship.

“My friends…..” You rouse the crew’s spirits with promises of drink and merriment in the evening if you reach your coordinates with time to spare. Cheers rise and fall. Groans are let out when you reveal you will be staying in to attend your Captain’s duties. You snap them from their whining by warning that any backsass will be punished accordingly, and fix your eyes on the Doctor, currently looking at the deck. You almost feel a pang of hurt- the Doctor was always attentive when Mazelinka spoke to the crew- does he really despise you that much?

“Before I forget, Doctor Devorak!” You bark. That gets his attention. His pale face snaps up, and possibly goes little paler. “You will be having the honor of joining me for dinner tonight in the Captain’s quarters. Don’t be late.” You smile wickedly and at least two of your crew whoop loudly. The doctor’s face turns a shade pinker, and the impending day begins to seem a bit less thankless.

You dismiss the crew, and steal away to review what you have learned.

____

 

It take a small amount of re-arranging to get the Captain’s quarters ready for ‘dinner’. You slide the bench to be directly across the desk from Mazelinka’s lavish Captain’s seat, and portion out a bowl of soup in the middle of the table. The place setting seems incomplete, so you add two wine glasses and whatever looks expensive from the Captain’s private stash. You are sure Mazelinka won’t mind you taking some rewards in advance for a job well done. As you pour a healthy amount in each glass, there is a knock at the door.

“Come in~” you call, a little giddy. The door opens, revealing none other than Doctor Devorak, looking darker and more serious in the low-lit room. Behind him the ship’s deck is illuminated with lanterns despite the sun having set, and there is laughter carrying from the crew begining to unwind. With a click the door closes and there is only the candlelight and silence from within the room. The shadows across his face make the bags under his eyes look all the darker. Pity strikes you, but you continue to smile devilishly up at him. He remains in the entryway, eyes cast towards the floor.

“Please, sit.” You say with your best welcoming smile.

He does, uncertainly, and you realize the bench across from you is far too short for him. It occurs to you that he is quite possibly the tallest person on the ship, and the bench makes him seem all the more awkward. But he finally makes eye contact with you, unsmiling. He's nervous, you realize, and that lends your pulse to hammer in excitement. You push a wine glass towards him and raise your own.

“To Mazelinka, a finer friend and mentor exists not in this wide world, and beyond.” You watch him. He visibly softens at the mention of Mazelinka, and even manages a small smile.

“To Mazelinka.” He says and takes a glass. The glasses make a lovely chime as you toast, and the wine is bitter and deep, much like Mazelinka herself you suppose. _Very_ bitter, in fact.

Really, _really_ bitter.

But! Not to appear weak, you fight through contorting your face at the taste. The Doctor is less successful and coughs lightly.

“Wow.” You say. “This is _awful!”_ You bark with laughter and take another drink. DISGUSTING.

”UHG it’s so bad!” You laugh, and the Doctor laughs too,finally cracking a smile. He still looks ready to bolt at any moment, but it’s an improvement.

“You don’t suppose she knew you would take her wine, and left decoys?” He ask.

“Jokes on her then, I have bad taste.” In a show of class, you down the rest of your glass in a few gulps, finding it has become easier and easier to drink, as most distasteful alcohols do. When you finish, he’s staring at you like you’ve performed some miracle or great feat, and then blushes slightly again(Fuck that’s a little cute, you think to yourself) when you notice. You push the single bowl of soup towards him, regaining his attention.

“Please, go right ahead, I’ve found myself feeling a bit queer this evening and think I’ll stick to my medicines.” You say with a wink, and pour yourself some more bad wine. He looks at the soup with suspicion, and then gives you a suspicious if not amused look, eyebrow creeping up like a proper smarmy bastard.

“How very hospitable. ‘Here, please come to my private rooms and drink a mystery liquid that I won’t be partaking in.’” He says. You laugh, encouraging the light teasing.

“Suspicious of your own crewmates!” You reply with mock offense. “A good policy to have. How about, you give me something to call you other than ‘Doctor Devorak’, and I’ll tell you what’s in that bowl.” You raise a brow at him over your wine. He grins at you from across the table.

“I didn’t know you were a gambler, _Captain_.” He picks up a spoon, and lifts it to his lips. “Julian, is what you may call me.” He gives a cursory taste, and then his face positively lights up. Oh fuck, you think. That was _really_ cute.

“This is Mazelinka’s soup!” He beams, going in for another bite, seeming to be lost in the taste sensation. Your confidence wavers at his joy. It couldn’t be that easy to get him to eat this, could it? Mazelinka wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it if that were the case.

“I’m not one to deny some theatrics,” Julian says between bites, “but you don’t need to trick….” He pauses, blinking suddenly. “Trick…*yawn* me…” You smile as your heart fills with all the bubbles and sparkles of a satisfied mischief maker as he sets the spoon down and crosses his arms. Brat. You think. You can deal with brats.

“So it’s _that_ kind of soup.” He scowls. “She put you up to this? Mazelinka always makes this soup when I can’t sleep. Nevermind that I’m better off dealing with this myself.” You raise a brow at his turn of mood, and reach forward to dip the tip of your finger into the soup. You give the viscous liquid a quick lick, before sucking your whole ass finger into your mouth absentmindedly. It is _very_ good soup. Even so, you feel a slight weight to your limbs that makes you shiver once before it leaves you. Potent too. You imagine if it’s had such an effect on you by a taste, Julian would need to be fighting it hard to stay awake in his state. But now it seems like it won’t be so easy to get the soup into Julian after all. You resurface from being lost in thought to see him staring at you, mouth slightly agape, before he finds something on the wall to look at as a slight pink tinge rises up his neck.

You pull your finger from your mouth with a ‘pop’. If you're a gambler, you think to yourself, you just got more leverage to the wager. You stand, taking the bet, and saunter over to the other side of the table. He watches you slide the bowl off to the side, and take a seat right in front of him, staring down like a cat over a trapped mouse. He shifts on the short bench and the blush continues to climb up to his cheeks and ears. Imagine what he’d look like if he wasn’t exhausted to the point of passing out. You lean into his space.

“Why do you avoid me? I’ve noticed ever since we met, you’ve taken every precaution to ensure our paths don’t cross.” You say. He leans away from you with a sudden inhale, as though you emit some kind of poison he simultaneously desires and fears. He cracks an unwilling smile, still refusing to look at you.

“A-Avoiding you? Nonsense. I’ve simply been… preoccupied! With my duties aboard the ship.” He stammers out. You lean into his view and he shifts away again. This is a game, you think to yourself, excitement stirring. Whatever power you have over Julian, it’s _fun._

“I didn’t even know your first name until tonight.” You continue to try and snake into his eyeline. “I was beginning to think I’d somehow offended you.”. He laughs dryly and cocks an eyebrow at you, finally returning your gaze. His pupil is dilated and it shines in the low light.

“I’m _very_ hard to offend.” He says.

“Cheeky boy, when you’re feeling confident.” You grin, leaning close enough to feel his breath, and a little too firmly take his chin in one hand, reaching back to grab a spoonful of soup with the other. In the second it takes for the spoon to come into his peripheral, to both of your surprise, he jerks away suddenly, hands flailing. The soup spoon goes flying out of your grip and you topple backwards to catch yourself on the table, knocking the bowl onto the floor with a _SPLAT._

You look at each other in confusion. He’s scooched the bench far away from you now and is panting, brow suddenly shining with sweat, which he quickly dabs away.

“I believe I’ll take my leave. Apologies.” He says, eyes downcast, and he stands to head to the door.

“Julian- I’m sorry, please wait.” You manage, and hop up off the table. Your mind races back through the last few moments, trying to figure out where you went wrong. You thought he said he was difficult to offend, but maybe you went too far?

“Please, Julian, don’t go yet. I’m sorry I frightened you.” You wait, watching his body, fully tense once more, thinking at the door. You both let out a sigh when he turns back around, looked ashamed.

“No, I’m sorry.” He says glumly. “I shouldn’t have panicked….” You wait for him to expand, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches down to retrieve the bowl and draws out several rolls of bandages to mop up the spilled soup. You look at him curiously. He catches your eye and smiles sleepily up at you.

“Doctor. Always need to be prepared to clean up a mess.” He says, and tosses the bandages into the trash before slumping back onto the small bench, a little further away from you now, but at least he’s still here here. The guilt of scaring him sits in you. Mazelinka had clearly thought your commanding tactics were a safe bet in this task, but maybe she was missing something? You approach him, waiting for consent to continue, and sit next to him when he makes room, careful not to touch him. 

“I want to apologize,” You say, feeling your own face get a bit hot. Man this sucks, you think, but you continue. “I think I misread some of your responses to things. It seems silly now… I actually thought you might have, wanted- me to-uh, grab you.” You feel your face flush hotter at the admission. Idiot, idiot, IDIOT. You could have been 50% drunker and 100% more laid tonight, but you just _had_ to be _so responsible._ And so _trustworthy,_ that your own maternal figure would trust you with a precious family member.

But there’s a soft snickering to your right, and when you look up, Julian is smiling at you, before dropping his gaze as the pink hue creeps all the way back to his ears.

“N-No, you –ahem- You didn’t misread things. I’m _very_ okay with some rough handling, there was just an…” he pauses, thinking about his words. “… incident not too long ago I guess I’m still carrying.”

“Is that why you left Vesuvia?” You ask. He’s being vague on purpose, but it sort of tumbles out of your mouth. Your suave, intimidating persona is shattered. You flounder to think of smooth things to say, but everything sounds too cheesy in your head now that the moment has passed. At least he’s holding your gaze now.

“Not entirely. More of the second to last straw that broke the camel’s back.” He says, with a slight frown. You’re running on empty. Your brain sputters something to lighten the mood into existence. It is a MISTAKE.

“….. must have been a dromedary.” You say, but you can’t stop the SIN you are about to commit before it leaves your lips. Julian looks confused.

“…A what?” He says.

“Must have been a dromedary camel,” You repeat, “because you can’t overload a BACKtrian camel’s back…” 

 

 

You steep in your shame. Julian does as well, possibly even more than you do, because he has to contend with the fact you just made that awful pun and he still thinks you’re a cutie patoot. The feeling fills the chamber. Mazelinka will be so angry when she finds out that not only did you fail in your mission, but that the ship was sunk under the weight of your SHAME. But a full, cheery sound pulls you from wallowing in your sorrows.

“That was the worst pun I’ve EVER heard! “ Julian laughs. You manage a smile, and then notice something when he goes to cover his laugher with a hand. 

“Julian, your hand is bleeding.” You say. The bowl must have chipped in the fall before he picked it up. Through the black leather of his glove, red drips out. He removes it and regards the small cut on his hand with a very tired seeming smile, and then holds it out towards you.

“Not for long.” He says. Sure enough, your eyes go wide as the cut continues to grow smaller and smaller, until all that’s left is a small swatch of blood just above his palm. You’re no wizard, but that sure looks like magic.

“That must come in handy for ‘rough handling’.” You say, hoping to hear that laugh again. You do, and then you take a chance, lifting his hand to your lips to kiss his palm, darting your tongue out to lick the remaining blood off. You look at him darkly and hear a sharp intake of breath. His hand trembles a bit, you feel his cold fingers lightly touch your jaw rather than pull away. You immerse yourself in breathing warm air onto his hand as you slowly mouth over his palm, and gaze up at him darkly. His posture is loosened again, and he’s watching you like it’s the raunchiest thing he’s ever seen (or maybe it’s the exhaustion). You lick up one of his long fingers, making a mental note that they are, good, long fingers, and kiss the end of it. He stares after you dreamily after you drop his hand, and stand to move to the table to portion out another bowl of soup. You pop yourself back on the desk, and dip your hand, palm down, into the somehow still warm(it’s magic) brew. Careful not to drip, you hold it out towards Julian. He shivers a little, but leans foreword and cups his hand under yours’ to steady it. He looks at you like a starving dog waiting for permission to eat.

“Your turn.” You say, and are a little surprised by the gentle enthusiasm in which he licks you hand clean. You’re positive he’s making an extra effort to show off by lewdly sucking you fingers down to the last knuckle and drawing them back out again, kissing them with reverence. Man that’s hot, you think. What did you do in your life to deserve this? What had you done for _Mazelinka_ that she would give you this? It must have been that one bank job… but you force yourself to maintain the composure needed for your role in this, every so often muttering ‘good boy’ and ‘that’s it’ as you alternate between letting him lick drizzled soup up your arm and out of your hands. Eventually he winds up on his knees, blushing wildly with his head in your lap and arms around your waist while you run your fingers through his really quite pretty hair.

You feel his head growing heavier in your lap and hear his breathing grow deeper. His eye closes every so often before fluttering back open. You lean down and gently lift him under the armpits, grateful for your years of well toned pirate muscles, as he’s not a tiny man. You maneuver him onto the desk until he’s straddling your lap and bring his face close to yours’.

“Is this okay?” You whisper. He nods eagerly, though the slight sway in his body tells you he’s maybe 2 minutes away from a magically induced coma. You bring his face down to yours and press your lips together. His mouth is warm at least, and tastes of the lingering umami flavor of the soup. You make a few passes over his lips before your ‘responsibility’ attribute catches up, and you retreat to lean his forehead against yours’.

“It’s time for good doctors to go to sleep.” You say. He lets out a whiney groan and slumps into your neck.

“How fortunate then, that I’m one of the baddest Doctors there ever was.” He pushes himself back up with a look that says this is his last bit of willpower fighting to stay awake and horny. His exhaustion is competing with his desire to be self deprecating, but he yawns, and humms in frustration, and slumps into your shoulder so you can stroke his hair affectionately as his weight settles on top of you in defeat. After a moment of wondering if you’re going to have to stay sitting bolt upright for the rest of the night, he stirs.

“ I suppose I should at least have the pride to know when I’ve lost,” He says, and pushes himself up to look at you with as much playfulness as he can muster. “But at least it was to a worthy opponent.”

You help him to his feet and towards the bed, rocking a bit as well as the boat sways. You notice rain pattering against the window and hope that the crew secured everything down while you were occupied. Julian flops down heavily and removes his coat, boots, and gloves. He looks up at you expectantly, toying with the deep neckline of his shirt.

“Well?” He gestures to the wide space of the bed, and leans back onto it, grinning.

But the bags under his eyes look worse than his chest and neck look biteable, so you step back towards the bench, smiling gently at him.

“Your determination is adorable, but you really need to sleep.” You say. His face falls a little, before weakly smiling up at you again. Your slight saltiness over rejecting him must be written all over your face.

“If there’s no one here to pin me down, I might slip away in the night.” He wags his eyebrows, but the effort makes his arms wobble out from under him and he plops down onto the mattress. You laugh. What a goof. You suppose sleeping _next_ to him isn’t as incorrigible as sleeping _with_ him. You give in, but you’re still curious about one more thing, and he’s given you another chip to barter with.

“If I join you, you have to tell me why you refuse to try and sleep.” You say decisively, though you’re getting so tired at this point that even if he doesn’t tell you, the bed just looks too comfortable not to crash down there too. He looks serious for a moment before rearranging his long frame into an inviting nest in which you want to curl.

“Deal.” He says, and lets his eyes close against a pillow as you not so gracefully pull off your boots and jacket, and climb in beside him. His limbs are still a bit cold, unsurprisingly, but he’s soft and warm in the right places for a good cuddle. You arrange the blankets and furs to encapsulate both of you, and adjust so you can hold his head to your neck and be close to him. He hums contentedly.

“You couldn’t have told me this morning this is what I’d be doing tonight.” He murmurs.

“Yeah, me neither.” You say, disassociating for a moment back to your morning declaration. It’s quiet for the moment, and you decide even if he doesn’t tell you why he embraces insomnia like a defense mechanism, at least he’s drifting closer to sleep. You reach out to turn a lantern all the way down, and as you settle into the darkness, he speaks quietly.

“Visions.” He says, and takes the hand you have wrapped around him in his own. “Very vivid, and real seeming nightmares. But hopefully I’ve had a good enough time for them to stay away for tonight.” He turns his head and your faces are only a few inches apart. You let him kiss the corner of your mouth. Your core explodes with warmth and you bring him closer to kiss him properly on the lips, as the last bit of fight fades from him in a whisper as sleep takes him.

“Thank you.”


	2. Now there are 2 chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ship's journey south is intercepted by a storm. A doctor is jumpy, an acting Captain is injured, and a card game is played. Smoochin' ensues.

Rain is pattering on the window when you wake up, thankfully still wrapped in Julian’s arms. You afford yourself an internal high-five-down-low at the success of your mission: Julian is still out cold, breathing deeply with his cheek pressed into your shoulder. Why thank you Mazelinka, Julian did sleep every single night you were away under the watchful eye of your First Mate. Perhaps they ought to be rewarded- with jewels, or gold, or a ship!

A vague memory of the night before creeps to the front of your mind- waking up briefly to Julian twitching and murmuring before you drifted back asleep after seeing there was no real cause for alarm. Only the ‘visions’ he had mentioned, perhaps. He seems to have found some eventual respite, and the dull grey light of the morning highlights his sharp features. The circles under and around his eyes have lessened, even if they aren’t totally gone. You see you were right- he is more beautiful when he’s taken proper care of himself, even if that takes some incentive.

As much as lying in bed with someone attractive is high on your to do list, there are other responsibilities you must attend to. The rain still drumming away on the glass makes you wonder if there is indeed a storm heading your way, so you carefully slip from Julian’s arms and back into your boots and coat. You hear him stir and move quietly back over to the bedside. He rolls over so the patched eye is all you can easily see. You lean down and speak gently to him.

“Doctor, you are welcome to- and I would even prefer it if you did- sleep a little longer. I’ve some duties to attend to, but the room is yours’.” After a moment he turns over again, eye decisively closed and heaving a long sigh. You reach out and run a finger along the back of his ear, and he twitches away from the tickle.

“There’s a good lad.” You say merrily.

__

 

You spend your morning looking over maps with the Navigator, discussing what to expect by nightfall with the ever-present clouds. She brings up that the storm seems to be a formidable size, and due to run parallel to your southerly course. You settle on a heading towards a sheltered lagoon, within easy reach by nightfall. You gather up some crew to check the sails considering the treacherous conditions, and later descend below to meet with the Boatswain and Carpenter to discuss the possible damage the ship could take from the shallow reef surrounding the lagoon, and the storm itself. As you come up from below-deck, you spot Julian’s dark outline among the crew, chatting easily with them.

“Doctor Devorak!” You call, crossing your arms behind you with authority. He turns and stands at attention with a relaxed smile.

“Yes, Captain? How may I be of service to you?” He says.

“We are charted to sail under some strenuous conditions this evening. Should any injuries occur I trust you are well equipped to handle them?”

“Oh yes, Captain. Lacerations, bone setting, amputation, blood letting- I’m your man. Try and avoid the amputation when I can- it tends to be ill received.” He says with a hint of seriousness.

“Doctor, you are among pirates. If anyone is morose at the loss of a limb, simply replace it with a hook.” You say with a smile.

___

 

By the time you have eyes on the lagoon, the rain increases to an onslaught of water, and the sea is eager to surge upwards with no heed for the vessel atop her. You order the crew to their ready positions. The last thing you want is the ship to get going so fast in the harsh winds that it wrecks on the reef. Your coat lashes about you like a cat of nine tails, and you find the Doctor, coat similarly striking to and fro, sheltering against the wall. Worryingly, he’s bracing himself as though he’s struggling to stay upright.

“Julian!” You call when he’s within what you hope, in all this wind, is earshot.(Is that too casual? Should you only refer to him as ‘Doctor’ when you’re not alone? You don’t know if there are rules for that sort of thing- you suppose you refer to everyone else with their title, perhaps ‘Julian’ was only for when you were alone with him? Not that you were thinking about spending more time alone with him oh god that’s exactly what you’re thinking about.)

Internal semantic struggle aside, (Doctor) Julian is clearly having a time of it keeping his footing on the sea-slicked deck. In contrast, you stand quite easily with no support as the ship lurches from her bow to stern.

“Ah, Captain.” He says through gritted teeth. “Fine weather we’re having!”

“You should go below deck- I’d hate to have to fish you from the water in this!” You say.

“How convenient I’m trying my very hardest to do so right now. Tricky thing, walking on a surface that moves every time you take a step.” He says, and releases the wall only to immediately stumble backwards towards the edge of the railing. You grab him by a flailing arm, and tug him closer to you. The ship dips and hops on the surf again, and he all but leaps into your arms. You flash him your most dashing smile and he blushes adorably.

“Yes, well, you see my point.” He straightens up, keeping a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. “You know you’d never believe it, but I just about grew up on this ship. It’s this dammed fashion statement that’s cost me my sea legs.” You grip him by the arm and head towards the door to the Captain’s quarters.

“An eye for two legs then?” You chime. “Doesn’t seem a fair trade. Why wear it, if not necessary?” The wind buffets your faces with sharp stings of water. You briefly wish you had something to keep the rain out of your eyes.

“I’m afraid without it, half the crew would leap overboard.” He grimaces. “My evil eye, I’ve come to think of it.” You reach the door and pull him into the shallow relief into the wall. It’s immediately quieter just in this small respite from the wind and rain.

“And here I thought you were all about fearsome appearances and danger.” You tease, pushing the door open.

He grins wide momentarily, only to yelp at a rumble of thunder and far too closely following flash and crack of lightning. He dives into the room. You laugh out loud and follow him in, muscling the door shut behind you lest it get blown off its hinges. 

“Calm down pet, it’s only some lightning.” You chuckle and realize how nice it is to have a moment without a constant whipping across the face. Julian paces the room and jolts when another boom sounds, followed by a more distant flash. You watch his eye dart to the window, and then to the trinkets perched precariously on the shelves. They toddle, but remain upright.

“Captain Mazelinka’s trick.” You say, and approach him calmly. “Don’t worry, nothing on those shelves is coming down.” You try and sound reassuring, but you’re thinking a little about what can happen to a ship with two massive masts in a lightning storm. You hope for his sake he isn’t. Julian stops pacing, but one of his hands runs through his wet curls and settles on his nape, pulling a bit.

“Yes, well, that’s good, I suppose. Preparedness and all that.” He manages, and starts pacing again, eye on the floor.

“Doctor Devorak.” You say. He’s getting himself worked into a frenzy. It must be the storm? Regardless, he doesn’t seem to have heard you, so you step into his path and put out your hands to stop him.

“Julian.”

He seems surprised that you’re right in front of him, like he forgot you were in the room for a second. He crosses his arms protectively, and glances away.

“Yes? What? Is it the pacing? I can stop- though I might start tearing my hair out instead-“ He gestures as though he’ll start doing it right there, so you grab his arm and hold onto it. He stares at you blankly. You bring his hand to your chest to try something one of the crew showed you long ago, when you would have similar issues after lost skirmishes.

“Breath with me.” You say, and start to take long, even breaths. Julian tries to copy you, but manages it only for a moment. The ship rocks on a wave enough to make both of you stumble, and he looks around wildly like he’s ready to jump through the window. At this point, you reach out and grab his face. You can think of one thing that’s sure to distract him if deep breathing exercises wont. He stops looking for paths out of the room just as you crash your faces together. He stiffens for a moment, and you seal your lips over his. His arms have frozen midair, so you slide your hands up into his hair and tug sharply to get his full attention. His eye shuts tight and his hands find your arms as you move your lips over his. You continue to kiss him, listening to the small, needy, almost-whimpers he makes, though if it’s you or the storm causing them, you’re not quite sure.

You tell yourself it’s because of you.

You back off into gentle pecks, and then simply hold your foreheads together. It crosses your mind that you probably wouldn’t have done that had it been the Navigator having a freak out. In fact, you might have just slapped her. Thinking on it now, that might have worked on Julian too.

You part, and he stands quietly, albeit looking rather bashful.

“S…sorry about that. I should have mentioned before- storms tend to make me a bit jumpy.” He says.

“A bit?” You say. He pouts a little. Uhg why he cute?

“A lot jumpy.” He steels himself for a moment, and continues. “When I was a child, just before I met Mazelinka, my younger sister and I were shipwrecked in the storm of the century. We lost our parents.” He says gloomily. You remember that storm. You can’t imagine how wretched that must have been to be caught in the middle of it.

“I’m so sorry,” You say, “that must have been awful.” You don’t think there’s much you can do now aside from listen and offer condolences, which feels uncomfortably close to helplessness. At least he’s not trying to jump out windows anymore.

“Just one more on a long list of awful things I seem to find myself mixed up in.” He says with a sneer. Is he somehow trying to paint himself as responsible for a tragic storm? You think about offering sad tales of your childhood crusades against an unjust justice system to commiserate, but it feels too close to trying to undermine him. (Take that, nerd, my life sucked too!) The ship rocks again and you look towards the door with a Captain’s resignation. There’s more that demands your attention than Julian right now. The wind howls.

“You probably have to get back out there, right?” He asks. You nod.

“If we can make anchor in the lagoon, everything will quiet down. It’s just getting past the…” You trail off. Julian doesn’t need to know about the possibility of the reefs tearing a hole in the hull. Still, it feels a bit like lying.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask. I think I’ll know what it was about pretty quickly if the ship starts to go down.” He says dryly. When you reach the door and glance back at him, he looks distraught again.

“I’ll be back as soon as we’ve laid anchor. You should try and get some sleep.”

He glances towards the bed, but something tells you him sleeping of his own volition right now is about as likely as you being able to dissipate the storm by blowing on it.

“You know- get it the bed all warmed up- for when I get back.” You offer, hoping it won’t come off as insensitive. He looks between the bed and you, and then gets the smirk on his face you had been hoping to trigger.

“Oh? And if I’m not asleep by the time you get back?” He grins. You sigh dramatically, feigning resentment.

“I suppose I’ll have to tire you out.” You leave him to fantasize about your meaning alone, and step back into the angry rain.

\-------

 

Your head is pounding when you finally place you hand on the door to the Captain’s quarters again. A stream of blood runs down your face and you hold one eye closed to keep out the salty sting. Is it the blood or the seawater that’s worse? It had been hell keeping the helm steady while you and the Navigator fought the ship into the quiet waters of the lagoon. In a moment when the ocean had taken control, you stupidly let yourself be smacked on the head by the fast spinning wheel, and just about collapsed on the spot. Of course, you’d managed to tough it out and right the ship’s course, but now all you wanted was a block of ice to rest your head on and silence…. You hoped Julian wouldn’t complain too much at the change of plans.

When you swing the door open, the change in temperature from cold to warm makes you nauseous, and you wobble. By the time you fumble the door shut, the lanterns seem too bright and you close your eyes. Your knees finally give out. You don’t hear the rush of footsteps to your side, only a rumbling as though you’re underwater. You feel a firm grip around you and your chin being lifted.

“……ain……?” You hear Julian’s voice, but it’s fading in and out. You suppose it must have been adrenaline keeping you on your feet until now. It’s the strangest sensation to have your eyelid pulled open, but it’s all just bright light and black, brown, red, peppered spots that you see. You jolt away when there’s a touch right where the wheel hit you, and it’s not a good feeling realizing there is a soft spot in your skull.

You feel as though you’re floating. Now Julian’s footsteps clatter too loudly on the floor. You can’t distinguish exactly where in the room you’ve been taken, so when Julian’s next touch comes, you grab his arm in surprise and stare at him, unseeing.

“P…ie sti-

….wi…. nly take

…. ment.” Is all you can make out.

You feel sweaty, hot, and cold all at once, and then his bare palm is on your forehead and it’s comfortably dry. Stillness spreads through your face and back into your head, then outwards around your skull, and the pain begins to subside. The stillness continues down your spine into your neck, then recedes until you feel like you’ve reached equilibrium again. You blink your eyes open and see the ceiling of the chamber. The hand on your forehead feels cooler now, and you turn to see Julian looking down at you, focused. You feel…. Fine.

“Are you alright?” He asks. He places a hand on your back and you sit up. The room spins, but only for a moment.

“Yes, I’m… what did you do?” You ask. You hand comes to your head where the wound was. It’s a still a bit sore, but the surface is… somehow already firm.

Doctor indeed, if this is what he’s capable of. You gaze at him gratefully and manage a smile.

A trickle of blood drips down his face. Your eyes go wide as light illuminates from his throat, and he winces, covering his eyes as you had moments before. You quickly make room for him to take your place on the bed. This is NOT what you trained for.

“Wha-you’re-“ You sputter.

“Not to worry, Captain- " He says between flinching. "a parting gift from an old flame. I can take away bodily harm so long as I experience it for myself. I’ll not lie, this may top the list so far in terms of grievousness, but I’ve not died doing this yet.” His body tenses when a wave of pain overtakes him. Great: an insomniac doctor who moonlights as a warlock martyr. He’s still bleeding despite the pressure from his hand, and you search around the room until you’ve gathered a rag and bowl of fresh water. You carefully pull his hand away and wipe the blood from his face. His eye is closed now and twitches with every touch of the cool cloth. This is fine. Hey Mazelinka, Julian won’t have any trouble getting to sleep anymore because he’s fucking dead.

You sit, worrying, while the mark on his throat slowly pulses with magic and fades.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Now _you’re_ injured and I don’t know how to treat something this severe.” You mutter and rise the rag, making he water bloom red. Julian sighs under your care.

“It’ll be gone in a moment, I promise you. I’m not so cavalier with my safety to expect the survive anything truly life threatening with this little trick.” He says. You’ve known Doctor Devorak for maybe a day and that still sounds like the biggest load of horseshit you’ve ever heard.

“I suppose that sence of self-preservation is the very same that inspired you to take up dealing in infectious diseases and crime?” You brush his hair back and feel along his scalp. It’s already smoothed over and firm again…

He opens his eye and looks up at you.

“My motivations aren’t purely based in my own misery, though you’re not the first person to find that hard to believe.” He takes your hand and rubs his thumb over the skin. You notice the Vesuvian’s murderer’s brand on it and close your fingers over it.

“I’m not so naïve to think stupid ideas never yield good things.” You pause, thinking of the arguably idiotic path your life took that got you here. “But usually the benefit is clear enough to outweigh the risk. You barely know me.”

Julian sits up and wobbles for a moment. You reach out to steady him, but he stabilizes and simply looks weary again- disappointingly similar to his state before you managed to get a night’s rest into him.

“Perhaps not as quick to bounce back from this one as I thought.” He says.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, feeling a little guilty. He shakes his head slowly.

“It’s more a response to the healing itself than the injury. I took on a few scrapes and coughs during my brief stint in prison, but normally it would take a whole day of going at it to get, well, like this.” He explains. You try and imagine the heart a person would need to continue to help others when his own life was at risk. Perhaps there is more to Julian Devorak than you assumed.

“ Would you be a dear and hand me that deck of cards?” He gestures towards the side table where the lantern sits. You pass the cards to him and he begins to shuffle.

“You’re right, of course. I don’t know you very well. Care for a game to get to know each other better?”

You search his face for an ulterior motive, but he seems content to shuffle the cards a few times and wait for an answer. His hands make easy work of bending and flitting the cards back together.

Oh god stop staring at his hands.

A game is an innocent enough way to get to know someone you suppose.

Oh god why are you bothering to get to know him. The implications of investing into such a thing are… troubling. You get up and grab a bottle of that awful wine from the shelf, and return. Julian laughs. You feel your face grow warmer when you realize you’re growing fond of that sound.

 “A drinking game then. High card draw, winner gets to ask a question, loser answers or drinks?” He suggests.

“Deal.” You sit and place the bottle between you on the blankets.

“Deal, or deal?” He teases. You roll your eyes. He grins to himself over his bad joke and deals the cards into two piles. You gather your hand and shuffle it a bit more, your life of piracy lending to a little paranoia when it comes to card games. He draws first. King. You draw. Ace. Damn.

“Hmmmm, what do I want to know…” he ponders out loud. You eyeball the wine. That’s your out if you don’t want to answer, though you don’t particularly feel like you have much to hide.

“What was the best fun you ever had?” He smiles wickedly. You think for a moment, but there’s one place that always comes to mind when you’re recommending where to seek out a good time.

“In Prakra, there’s this tavern-“ You cut yourself off and your face grows hot. Maybe this isn’t the story you should tell when ‘getting to know’ someone, but Julian leans closer, encouragingly.

“Go on.” He says

“And this woman, and she, uh… she-“ How do you say in casual conversation there’s this wench you can pay in Prakra to get you shitfaced and then she’ll sit on you for hours, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced in your whole ass life? How do you put that so you don’t sound like an opportunist for escapades???? It’s not UNtrue, but suddenly you feel the need not to highlight that aspect of your hobbies.

“She’s very skilled at her craft. An absolute pleasure to work with.” You say, and then uncork the bottle and take a drink anyway to try and drown the embarrassment creeping up your neck. Julian raises a brow.

“You know you only have to drink if you don’t answer.”

You slap the next card onto the bed. 5. Julian pulls a 3. Your turn.

“What’s the story behind the eye-patch?” You say.

“Mazelinka’s idea. She thought it would make the crew more comfortable.”

  
“So it’s not covering a gaping hole?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He leans slightly closer to you, teasing. You reach forward to grab it but he dodges away.

“Easy there. I’m not opposed if you want this to be a stripping game, but wait until I _don’t_  answer a question.”

“You _didn’t_ give a real answer.” You maintain. “If you want to really get to know me, play by the rules.” You hold the bottle out to him. He glances between it and you for a moment before grasping it by the neck and taking a swig. You can’t help but run your eye up and down the long line of his neck. He swallows and makes a face.

“Is it just me or are we both bad at this game?” He draws again. 8. You pull a card. Jack. You hum to yourself. He’s not wrong though. Maybe it’s time to let the questions take a different approach.

“What do you find attractive about me?” You say, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, though you feel your heart pound a bit. He stares at you, wide eyed for a moment before the blush reaches his face. He drops his gaze.

“You… well.” He stutters to a stop. Why do you think this is cute. Is this how normal people feel? You pity them if it’s not.

“You have a commanding presence and good um….” He fumbles. “Kissing you is nice.” You smile at him, suitably endeared, and let him sweat a moment before drawing another card. It’s a 2. Julian draws another King. It takes him a moment to regain his composure enough to ask a question, but he’s still blushing a bit anyway.

“Where, ah, where were you intending me to sleep tonight? That’s a bad question, isn’t it- for the game I mean.”

You have to think about that for a moment. You don’t remember ever seeing him in the crew’s quarters before Mazelinka left, but you suppose there must be room there if needed.

“There’s room for you in the crew’s quarters.” You say carefully.

“Of course.” He says. He’s still not looking at you, and you narrow your gaze. That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, and he’s making that painfully obvious by forcing stoicism. You draw. King. He draws. Queen.

“Julian.” He snaps his eyes back up to look at you.

“Y- Yes?”

“Do you want to stay here?” He unravels further, but continues to try and fight it. His hand fumbles for the wine bottle, but you get to it first and pull it away.

“Answer the question.”

He stares at you, face red, and swallows.

“I wouldn’t mind…” He manages. No more eye contact from him, you think to yourself. You wonder why he has trouble asking for what he wants, when he’s so bad at hiding it. Maybe it's the difference in your upbringing or outlook. There hasn’t been much in your life that’s kept you from getting what you felt was just at the time. You should work on your empathy more. While most children learned to put themselves in others shoes, you were busy studying the blade.

You set your cards down, and place a hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lean into his space. He doesn’t try to move away now, and when you rise onto your knees and bring your hands to tangle in his hair he groans softly and looks up at you. Such a pretty face…

You bring your lips together and are met with a desperation that isn’t surprising or unreciprocated. His hands grip your sides and he pulls you as close to him as you’ll come. You gently pull away, a path forward clear in your mind.

“Too much? You can tell me. I’ll be good.” He pants with as much honestly as suggestion. You push his chest with your palm until he adjusts to lie back. You climb on top and feel his heart pounding. You lower yourself to kiss him again, relishing in the affect you have on his pulse, growing faster and harder. His hands run over your back, pressing lines of soft pressure into your muscles toned by years of sailing. You angle his head to the side and kiss the corner of his jaw, breathing gently on the dampened skin to make him shudder. You lightly work your way along his neck, and decide to take a gamble and graze him with your teeth, keeping in mind that not everyone is fond of it. His hands move swiftly to your scalp and he moans louder.

“ _Please_.”

That shoots off a firework down below. You bite down on his neck in earnest and he hisses at the sensation. It’s encouraging, but when you look at his face again, you can’t help but notice the bags under his eyes again. He pulls you in for another kiss, which you oblige, adding a few nips to his lips. You maneuver your position to slide next to him, and he sighs happily as you kiss him a little longer before settling your head onto the pillow you’ve wound up sharing. You notice his neck is unmarred, despite what you know to be a very proven technique. He grins a little.

“It’s me, not you. The curse, I believe. Takes a little more effort to make it stick.” He murmurs, drawing you closer again.

“I’ve yet to shy away from putting in some effort.” You whisper and nip him sharp enough to make him flinch before easing into a final, gentle kiss. _He’s worth the effort._ You think. You take a moment to be freaked out by how easily that thought came to you. His breathing becomes deeper as you both sink into the pillows, and watching his eye fight to stay open, you’re fairly certain you managed to tire him out one way or another. You reach across him to turn out the lantern, for the second night in a row. As sleep begins to take you, You realize you’ve already shifted your leg forward to maintain some kind of contact with him through the night...

What a troubling thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took 4 lengthy re-writes before I was happy enough with it to post it
> 
> You're welcome


	3. Ya'll really like this shit huh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apprentice confronts Julian with their feelings, and it goes about as well as expected. An aquatic blubber friend is made, realizations are had, and two characters finally get names instead of only being referred to by their titles.
> 
> *edit 7/19/19*  
> -TIL Nopal is, in fact, not another city-state, but the little desert town Asra's Sanctuary is in

 

You grip a large luscious leaf by its stem and hack it away with your cutlass. Sweat drips from your brow off your nose and you’re panting. It’s so hot and humid. An urgent BORking reaches your ears and you look around the dense jungle forest. They’re far ahead of you again, the cheeky little scamp.

“Hey!” You call out, into the foliage, but there’s no reply. It’s been a steep climb, and you’re exhausted. The sunlight dappling through the canopy’s gently swaying leaves gives the illusion of movement as you look around.

“Where did you go?” You yell.

A low BORk sounds from a little ways off in front of you, and you continue to carve you way into the bush, desperate to catch up. The higher you climb, the louder the BORking seems. The slippery, decaying leaf litter trips you up, but you heroically catch yourself and gracefully scramble onwards. You take down a last veil of plants, and the ground under your foot gives way. Suddenly your arms are backpedaling wildly as the forest simply ends, and the roar of an adjacent waterfall asserts itself.

How did you not notice it before you were this close…? It’s as if the river that feeds into the falls made no sound at all until you were almost upon it. In the middle of the rushing current, you see who you’ve been chasing. It’s a seal, dark and thick. They lift their head from sunbathing to look at you, and slide from a flat boulder into the river. You step away from the cliff edge and carefully sidle over to the water. There is a pounding in your ears. Definitely the altitude change you tell yourself. Because you certainly aren’t scared of the falls- no way no sir no how. You glance towards the waterfall. It drops who knows how many feet into a lush, winding valley. The seal’s head emerges from the water.

“bORK-bORK-bORK!” They honk at you, black eyes shining. They look back at the world’s edge, the tumbling current, and something tingling down your spine tells you your destination isn’t at the top of this mountain. Your stomach flip flops. You’ve felt elements of this pull towards the unknown ever since you set foot on this island. You try to remember when it was you first came ashore, but you draw a blank. That blankness is strangely grounding, though the very air itself seems to tremble around you at the thought. You move to the cliff edge and gaze down. The spray is so opaque there is no way of telling what’s waiting at the bottom. The thought of jagged rocks or a very shallow pool makes you shiver.

“Are you sure there isn’t another way down?” You ask. The seal slaps their flippers onto the bank and honks at you admonishingly.

“ _Trust! Follow!_ ”

You hear in your mind. You stand, steeling yourself, and the tingling itches the back of your head. You take a deep, calming, breath and jump into the cool water. Immediately the seal swims up underneath you, and their blubbery form is sturdy and comforting under your hands. You close your eyes and grip your friend tight as the current surges over the edge. But there’s something strange about the way the water moves your body- it feel less like you’re being thrown down as you shoot out over the edge. It feels like you’re falling…. Up?

_______

You smack onto the wooden floor of the Captain’s quarters and look around wildly. Your legs are still tangled in the blankets, and the room is sideways as you dangle off the bed. You don’t hear any sounds of alarm or teasing, so you assume Julian must already be out and about. You right yourself and rub your eyes, still feeling the push and pull of the water from your dream. You dream fairly regularly, but this is the first in recent memory that felt particularly _real._ Your body feels heavy like you actually did just climb a mountain in… had it been a tropical or temperate forest? And that creature…was there a creature, or just a feeling of not being alone? Already the dream is growing hazy and your mind wanders to the imminent process of getting out of bed.

You kick yourself free of the entanglement and slide to the floor. The sun falls directly into your eyes, and you lift your hands to shield yourself. Your hands are lightly scared from rope burns and youthful carelessness with very sharp objects, but they also sport telltale signs of time spent in shackles are also etched about your wrists. You think of Julian’s hands and touch the skin behind your knuckle, where the murder’s brand should also be inked into your skin.

Your stomach twists with uncertainty. There’s so much he doesn’t know about you, and the more you continue to fall into each other’s arms, the more it feels dirty to let things go unmentioned. Of course, you’ve hinted that you haven’t led an exclusively crime-free life, but you feel that there’s a point where prolonged canoodling demands a transparency between partners. You get up and dress yourself in the garb your pirate life demands. There’s very little you own of your old life anymore.

You pull up your sea-worn boots and think of your Papa’s scowl and seething anger when you told him to gather his belongings and listen to you for _once_ , as time was short. You think of the look of disappointment and sadness on your Father’s face as he watched Mazelinka’s ship pull away from the smuggler’s cove- with you still on it. It’s been years since you’ve seen them, but at least you know they’re together and safe. You force yourself back into the present with that thought. It’s all a long time ago now.

From the deck, you see that the Navigator has brought the ship in to lay anchor closer to the island surrounding the lagoon. Soft looking white sand forms the beach and beyond it heavy fruit trees dot the edge of a lush forest. You know you’ve never been here before, so you identify what you feel as just a moment of deja-vu. You note a couple of your crew rowing back towards the ship with fresh supplies, and scan the beach for who you’re really interested in seeing. You spot the familiar auburn hair a little ways up from where the waves lap the shore, hard at work on some kind of sand structure. He’s smartly shed his regular coat and gloves in favor of something better suited for playing in the sand. You smile and watch him for a moment from the deck. Even from here, you can see the broad smile on his face as he works, and a slight redness on the back of his pale neck from the sun. Two self imposed options loom before you: either you talk with him (really talk with him), so he can know the risk involved with being associated with you, or end things with him before it gets too hard to leave. Your heart twists at the first option, but it breaks a little at the second.

“Mornin Captain.” The Navigator claps a hand on your shoulder and you pat her hand familiarly, mulling over your gloom “How’s the head?” She asks. You had almost forgotten you suffered head trauma the night before.

“Never better. Quite a Doctor Mazelinka’s brought us.” You say. On the shore, a wave manages to lap at the edge of Julian’s sand city and a lump of it falls into the water. He becomes very animated as he tries to remedy the situation, splashing into the water barefoot.

“That all he’s good at Captain?” The Navigator gives you a knowing look and raises a brow, offsetting the smarmy grin spreading across her face. You flush, but can’t help smiling at the figure on the beach as he valiantly protects the construct with his own body. The ocean will not take his fair city today.

“…Among other things.” You admit. “How is our course? Do we need to depart soon, or do we have time for a brief respite?”

“We’re a day ahead of schedule at least due to yesterday’s winds. Figured it was a good idea to top up supplies while we can and give everyone a bit of time to relax.” She says. She gestures towards the rowboat the crew has just brought in.

“That means you too Captain.” She winks. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.” You grin at her warmly. Even without Mazelinka here, you love this crew. As you touch down into the calm waters and begin to row, Julian crouches sadly by the remains of his structure- taken before its time in a battle between man and nature that will live on through the ages. Here stood Sand Castle Town- may we remember those who gave their ultimate sacrifice for her.

 

By the time you’ve pulled the rowboat up onto the sand, Julian is lying prone on the white sand with one arm draped over his eyes. The sleeve of his shirt billows lightly in the wind. The moment your foot splashes into the water, you feel a wave of reassurance wash over you. You’re doing the right thing. You walk over to him, blocking the sun with the wide brim of your hat, and he moves his arm away at the shadow. For a moment, you swear he looks sorrowful, but then he blinks and smiles up at you.

“Ah, Captain. Wondrous place we’ve found ourselves in. Though I will say you are thwarting my attempt to sunbathe.” He face has grown lightly toasted just from the few hours on the bright sand.

“I think you mean sunburn.” You comment.

“Is there truly a difference?”

You smile, and offer him a hand to help him up, and he leans up to take it. For a moment, he just sits there and holds your hand, running his thumb over your fingers. Then his eye flashes with mischief and he throws himself backwards, yanking you down on top of him in a brief scramble. His hand comes to your waist and he leans in for a quick kiss.

“There, much better.” He grins up at you. And you laugh heartily at his antics. It’s so easy with him to be like this. You want to get closer- your heart pounds in your chest, begging for you to lean down and lightly kiss every bit of skin the sun has found before you- but you force yourself to flop down onto the sand next to him. You can’t help but find his hand though, and lace your fingers into his. He turns to watch you, soft expression betraying his fondness.

“This is nice too.” He says. You stare up the sky. Somewhere on the island, you hear seals barking. This is fine. You could just continue like this. Or, you could run. Just leave without a trace; disappear into the unknown, leaving no hint of where to find you. No more responsibility, no more obligation to other people, the sea would be your only mistress. But you feel it deep in your bones- there’s a right way to do these sorts of things. If you don’t give him a fair warning of what he’s getting into, you’ll regret it forever if he gets hurt.

“We need to talk.” You force out.

“Oh?” He looks concerned, and you squeeze his hand, hoping to convey something that way so you don’t have to put it all into words.

“Oh. Yes, I think I get your meaning.” He says, and lets his gaze shift upwards as well. “I’ve been meaning to say something similar.” There’s a hint of sadness to his voice, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. You’re glad you aren’t looking at him. The expanse of the bright blue universe is all you can see. Now you’ve started- there’s no turning back. You inhale the warm salty air.

“I don’t know where this is going- you and I- but I feel like I need to be honest with you.” You say. He turns to face you, but you can’t look at him right now. Not if you’re going to get these words out.

“I’m… not a particularly good person- legally, I mean. Every city we dock in I need to be careful around guards, and I don’t know exactly what it is you’re running from, but-“ You swallow. You’ve known your life would be this way for years and years. You saw what ‘civilization’ thought was deserved of you and your loved ones and rejected it. Why is it so hard to admit that to Julian?

“I’ll never be able to stay in once place long. I only have the connections I have now because of Mazelinka, and even then the crew all have a clean way out of this life if they want it. They can jump ship if they need to. Not just in the literal way- in the metaphorical way too. But I… can’t. This is the life I accepted for myself a long time ago- so I could do what needed to be done. “ You let the words hang in the air. You feel his gaze on you, but he waits for you to finish.

“I’m… fond of you.” You say, and you feel your face getting hot. You know it’s not from the sun. You resent that it’s not from the sun. “I don’t want you trick you into thinking all this might be behind me someday. This is…it.” You finish, and swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. Why do you feel so much like crying?

He doesn’t say anything for an agonizing moment, just rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Life has a funny way, doesn’t it?” Julian says quietly. “It’s not an identical circumstance, but I’ve been meaning to say much of the same to you.” You turn your head to face him. The warm sand on your cheek is something of a comfort while you wait for him to continue. His face falls into a frown. “The reason I’m here in the first place…I confessed to a crime- committed on a night that I don’t even remember. I was to be hanged, but I got scared, and ran to Mazelinka.” He curls his lip in disgust. “It would be naïve to think Vesuvia wouldn’t try to paint the entire crew as my accomplices, but I was already out on the ocean when I realized it, endangering them all. I couldn’t sleep. I barely ate. Not that I had been doing those things particularly well before, but still. Years of my life are a blur to me now, I don’t know what horrible things I’m guilty of.” He pauses, and you watch him turn to face you. The tension in him melts away and a genuine, soft smile spreads across his features.

“And on top of it all, I met you. And I was- well- terrified, that somehow you would get tangled in my mess… I thought the world of you, right from the start. It’s been days, but I feel like I’ve known you for years.” His eye turns downcast and he holds your hand tighter. “But it’s only a matter of time before I screw something up again. Anyone close will be certainly caught in the crossfire, yet I continue to seek you out. Can I be that selfish? I don’t know if I even _deserve_ to be happy- I certainly don’t want anyone else to get hurt. But every time my mind tells me to leave, my heart keeps pulling me back.”

Silence hangs between you, but for the lapping waves. This wasn’t how you were expecting the conversation to go, and you’re struggling with it. Why is he hesitating based on his unproven crimes instead of your very proven ones? The deciding factor you were expecting was if he thought it was worth it to risk his _own_ safety, but the tables have turned. Your mind scrambles to make sense of this without sounding angry.

“What if your memory never comes back? What if you never know if you ‘deserve’ to be happy?” You ask. He grimaces.

“I don’t know. That’s the thing about not knowing; even the right choices feel wrong.” He says. The prospect of uncertainty and not knowing is shaking him far more than anything you could have said. You feel like you could have told him you’re a cursed magical wizard and he would still be worried about his own problems. It’s… a little irritating. There must be some way to pull him out of this pit, but everything about this has been so fast. You went from strangers, to friends, to who can really say in the blink of an eye.

“All I know is that ill fate has followed me this far, and it’s bound to catch me again.“ He murmurs. You scowl.

“Is that it? You don’t care that I’m putting you in the exact same situation; you _only_ don’t want to take the chance for my sake?” _It doesn’t make sense_. Or if it does it’s a troubling show of hypocrisy as far as judgment of character goes, but we won’t get into that here.

“Do you even want me?” You look him straight in the eye. What else doesn’t have a leg to stand on? Were you wrong to entertain this whole time? Doubt is growing in your heart, pushing out the warm feelings you had been entertaining. This sucks.

“Do I-? I-It doesn’t matter what I want-“ He stutters, and his cheeks grow redder under his already pink skin.

“It does matter. It matters a whole lot.” You insist. You’re desperately fighting for a relationship you’re starting to think was always destined to simply shine for a few nights and die. Is this what people risk every time they make a connection with others? Julian finally answers you.

“I want you to be safe, I want… I don’t know what I want.” He says gloomily.

“Julian.”

You touch his face and he flinches slightly- whether because of you or the actual sting of his sunburn, you aren’t sure. But he doesn’t move away. You feel your heart pounding painfully in your chest and can empathize for a brief moment how scary it is to not know. He takes a shaky breath, and finally looks at you heavily.

“I want you.” He admits, and bites his lip. “I want you so much it feels like a compulsion. I think of you when you’re not with me and…”

The reassurance of your own feelings being reciprocated is a bigger rush of relief than you would have ever expected. You kiss him, and he’s hot and desperate on your lips. You bring your hands to his hair and pull him closer still, and he closes the remaining space between your bodies to hike one of your legs over his. You could have this, consequences be dammed. You _want_ to have this. Every day until you- or he- gets whatever ‘justice’ is coming for you. When you part for breath, still pressed against each other in the sun, you comb your fingers through his hair and watch him slowly come back into his mournful expression. Your throat grows tight.

“If you truly don't want to give this a chance I won’t push it.” You force out, and slide your leg off of him. It feels wrong. It makes your chest hurt. Losing him now, just when you’ve just opened yourself to the idea of having him around feels unfair. But that’s the thing with relationships, you remind yourself. It’s not enough for only one person to want it.

“I’m not sure.” His eye flits back up to you, and he shifts away an inch.

You feel like something’s been broken off from you. You force yourself to sit up, feeling very weary despite the early hour.

“If I wanted safety,” You murmur, “I wouldn’t be here, stealing and smuggling for a living. I face danger every day I’m living- I’m not scared of what might happen if I’m with you.” Everything is churning inside. You feel alone, laid bare, and completely misunderstood. Why did you ever let yourself do anything other than funnel a bowl of soup down his throat? How did you think this was something you were ready to have? Why are tears stinging from your eyes?

You get up and start walking down the beach. It hurts to even consider you were wrong to care about him, because it would mean you don’t really know yourself, or him, at all.

You wish you hadn’t even brought up this conversation.

____

 

You walk for a long while, so long the exhaustion you felt has doubled back on itself into fuel for more frustration, sorrow, and of course, walking. You just following the beach until you run out of beach. Then you follow the rock flats until the tide pools are too frequent and large to really be considered tide pools anymore(at this size and depth, really they’re tide ponds). You look out over the surf, and watch the water crash into and pull over the dark recesses. The clear blue sky lets the sun continue to mock you with its bright smile. You pick you way over thin walls of rock separating tiny ecosystems, and make your way towards a collection of round boulders. They’re the perfect things for siting in the shade of to mope about your love life.

Your mind twists and folds through your melancholy. You sift back through his words, his logic and reasoning, and try to wrap your head around what’s bothering you (aside from the wishy-washy rejection). It’s troubling: the thought that goodness and being deserving of happiness are in correlation. In your experience, good and bad were merely a matter of whom you asked. You lean on one of the boulders the feel of it solid and cool behind you is comforting.

What must a ‘good’ person look like to Julian? He was a doctor during a horrible plague, lots of people died, but he must have tried to help. Surely, he tried to help. The plague ended, and he was arrested for a crime he doesn’t remember. None of these things strike you as the actions of a bad man, or even a morally questionable man at that. After all, you think with a sneer, institutional justice and law is a rather poor indicator of morality. It was law that put your sweet, gentle, Father in jail. Law that made you become wanted for breaking him out. Even so, you don’t think you did the wrong thing. The great ‘powers that be’ in your homeland were put there long before you were even born- you were an imp standing against a devil. You did what you could. You tried to at least save your family from that influence. You always thought that made you good.

Didn’t it?

You’re too busy mulling over two very complicated and weighted philosophical questions*, so you don’t notice one of the boulders waddling over to you. A sharp nudge in the side nearly topples you over, but your pirate instincts have you on your feet with blade drawn at a moment’s notice. You glare down at your assailant.

It’s a seal.

It BORks at you. You feel a strange sense of calm looking past their whiskers into their dark eyes. The seal sniffs up and down your breeches. They nose at the pouches on your belt, and just when you think they are fixing to nick your rations, they nose their head under your hand and wait. You are not an expect on seal behavior, nor are there any in the imitate vicinity. You give the rubbery skin a cursory rubbin, and the seal closes their eyes and huffs contently. You continue to rub, and can’t help but smile a little. This is nice.

Looking around, you can see that not all these boulders are boulders at all. They are seals- big and round. The mass of blubber you had taken shade under suddenly feels very intimidating and you back away slowly. Your new friend keeps perfect pace so that the head rubbins may continue. It takes some fancy footwork to avoid falling into tide ponds, but you eventually make it back to the edge of the forest. At this point your seal friend takes off into the bush and is gone. You’re alone again. Your melancholy waits at the edge of your psyche to see what you will do.

“Hey! Where are you going?” You call into the thick leaves. The seal pokes their head out of the foliage.

“OARk!” They say, and are gone again. A conundrum. You draw your cutlass and take a few careful swipes at the greenery, until a seal-sized tunnel is revealed. Looking down it, you see the seal’s wiggly butt scooting further along a worn path of leaf litter. You take a look back towards the way you had initially come, towards where the ship is anchored. Going back right now isn’t an idea that particularly appeals to you. Of course, following a seal into an uncharted forest doesn’t sound particularly smart, but there’s something about the critter that makes you _want_ to follow it. It’s just so silly and simple. You’ve been being the bigger person for several days and nights now. It’s time you had some time to kick back and follow seals.

You make good progress on the bush as you follow the seal. Every so often they wait up for you, head turned back to see if you’re still coming. You don’t know anything about seal facial expressions, but it seems like it’s happy every time it looks back and you’re still there. Your arm begins to cramp from the continual effort of trail blazing, and by the time you resort to your offhand, your pace has considerably slowed. You feel hungry and thirsty and exhausted. The sun is hot where it leaks through the trees.

 

Dammit. This _was_ a bad idea. You still have to hike all the way back. The seal BORks encouragements from further down the path.

“ _Close!”_ You hear in your mind. You look around suddenly. Sweat is dripping off your face from the humidity in the forest. Your clothes feel damp to your skin. You know you’re totally alone but for the seal, and again you feel as though the very air… the very island itself, wants you here. You push on a little further, and the tunnel opens up into a clearing.

 

There is a small pool up against the trunk of a great tree, and fruit of shapes and colors that you’ve never encountered or imagined. Pink, red, and yellow jungle flowers bloom in clusters, and massive butterflies and nectar sipping birds flit between them, pollinating. The entire space is vibrant and alive, and you swear, when you stepped out of the forest, the shelf fungus growing on the surrounding trees began to glow with a soft pink light that shifts to purple, and then blue. The air seems to hum with some kind of presence here, but you feel strangely unafraid. Tiny, luminous balls of fluff float from branch to branch in the trees- some kind of strange insects, or maybe something entirely new. You feel you are far safer here than you have been in quite some time. You feel yourself relax at long last as you take in the sight.

The seal nudges your hand, and then waddles to the poolside before slipping in. You follow, and see that the water impossibly deep, perfectly clear, and populated by hundreds of nudibranches and other small, fragile sea life. You lean closer to the water, and there are leafy sea dragons clinging to the weeds that grow along the edges. It’s like looking into a kaleidoscope, but so, so much better.

You reach out, the water seeming to vibrate a bit as you do, and your body feels electric with some current that seems to run through this whole place. When you touch the surface, the water is pleasantly cool after your long hike to get there. You sigh and watch some small fish come up to investigate your hand before the seal rises up underneath your palm.

“ _Try!”_ You hear in your mind. You look around the clearing. You’re still totally alone. Even the sounds of birds and animals moving through the forest seem muted here, like it’s behind glass. It’s absurd, but you wonder if the seal is somehow talking to you.

“ _Seem familiar?”_ You start a little this time. The seal is looking right at you. Familiar? They heave themselves up onto the bank beside you and press their bulk gently into your side. Something does feel special about this place, but what exactly that is evades you, until the seal speaks again.

“ _Dream! Found friend! Wait for friend! Friend finds me! Show friend the way!”_

You do remember a dream. You remember this seal. They showed you a path to a waterfall, and then you both went over it. But this place wasn’t in your dream. You’ve never seen anything quite like this aside from the bits of magic Mazelinka’s shown you over the years.

“Magic?” You ask the seal. You chastise yourself slightly for asking a seal. That’s weird, isn’t it?

“ _Not weird.”_ The seal noses your side.

“I don’t know any magic.” You say, and stroke your hand down the seal’s slick back. As you do, spots of blue dapples glow down their back, like sunlight through the water. You stare, mesmerized, and trace further patterns in the seal’s skin as they fade.

“ _Try! Together!”_ The seal slips into the water. “ _Follow!”_

You watch the seal descend down out of sight. A rush of energy once more pulls you to follow, but you look up towards the canopy. There doesn’t seem to be much light coming through now. Could it already be evening? You frown and wonder, with a bit of spite, if the crew was panicked when Julian returned alone- if they railed against him for abandoning you and threw him in the brig. You know they wouldn’t really, but you still aren’t ready to go back yet. Not when everything is so strange and new.

When you look back at the water, the seal is staring at you expectantly.

“ _Try! Together! Open the way~”_

 

You can’t understand why, but you feel like this seal knows you on a deep, spiritual, magical(?), level. You slip into the water, and dive down with the seal.

You feel weightless, like you’re floating in air rather than water. When you open your eyes there’s no salty sting, and your vision is crystal clear. The seal glides through the water beside you, and bumps you gently. You take a hold of them, and they tow you deeper down into the abyss. You’ve dived before-you know it shouldn’t be this easy to descend this quickly-but your head feels immeasurably fine. You feel the seal beneath you inhaling and exhaling, but no bubbles spout from their muzzle. Seal’s can’t breath water, you’re fairly certain. Saltwater in your eyes is supposed to sting. But if nothing makes sense…. You open your mouth, and you breath. Then you laugh, and the seal BORks once, and twirls slowly as you reach the sandy bottom of the pool. There, set into the rock, is a wooden door.

You float a little above the sand, because why not? You look up, and you can see the light from the tiny luminous creatures far above you, and just when the darkness at the bottom begins to tickle you with fear, glowing corals illuminate the rock walls, all the way down. Beautiful.

The seal watches you(patient, for a seal). You run your fingers over the wood of the door. It has a grain. The wood feels slightly soft, like it’s been here underwater for ages. The handle is a dull grey metal, which the seal boops with their nose. You give it a cursory pull. It doesn’t have any give.

“It’s stuck.” You say. You can talk underwater. What’ll they think of next!

“ _Open the way, together.”_ The seal nuzzles their way under your arm, and you feel a surge of energy and bright, happy, laughter bubble through you. It’s invigorating, and you try the handle again. It still won’t move.

“ _Together. Try, together.”_

“I am trying, it won’t move.” You say, a little disheartened. Your chest tightens slightly, and you feel a wave of fear. What if coming here was a mistake? You look wide eyed at the seal, who takes a deep breath, inflating like a balloon, and then slowly lets it out. You breath again in tandem with your seal, and the water flows through you like air once more.

“ _More together! Not –here- just together! Family, friends, always together!”_

You try to purse the seal’s meaning. You place your hand on the handle again, and let your thoughts wander to those most important to you. You think of Mazelinka, who believes in you and trusts enough to leave you in charge. You think of the crew, who look to you for guidance and comfort. You think of your Father and Papa, and hope they’re safe. You think of Julian and hope… you hope he’s thinking of you too.

You turn the handle, and the door clicks open.

 

______

 

 

You hear the foam dissipating off lapping waves as they break on the sand. A cooler breeze, still heavy with moisture, raises goosebumps on your skin. You open your eyes and there are innumerable stars above you in the dark night sky. You hear feet beating hard against the sand, and a voice.

“Doctor! There’s something over there!” The Navigator’s voice reaches you, and you sit up. (That was a mistake, you lay back down.) You’re on the beach. It’s nighttime, and you feel like you’ve just woke up hungover from a dream. Your head pounds slightly and the stars seem to be turning like they’re caught in a whirlpool. A snoot bumps you from the side. You turn and see the seal looking at you with their black eyes shining in the starlight. Not a dream. Your fingers tingle slightly as you lay your hand on their head.

“Emsea! _”_ The Navigator comes into your view as she stands over you, panting. You can’t remember the last time she called you by your name. Then she drops to her knees, pulls you into a hug, and lets out a small sob. You bring your hands to her back, feeling as though having her close is making things clearer, though your head still smarts a bit. You try and look to the seal for an explanation. They offer none. They are not an expert on human behavior, nor is there one in the immediate vicinity. You’re on your own.

“Kaya?” You ask. Apparently neither of you is using titles right now. “What’s wrong?” You ask, though you get the feeling you won’t like the answer. Your voice sounds exhausted and small. Navigator Kaya yanks herself away as another taller, darker figure reaches you. You know it’s Julian, so you focus all your attention on Kaya. She looks angry now, as well as greatly overwhelmed.

“WHAT’S WRONG? You were missing for _two days!_ ” She wipes her eyes furiously. “We didn’t know where you were- we looked _everywhere_ for you. Where were you, what happened?” Your eyes go wide and you think your brain has stopped. You look over at the seal, and? Think?? At them???

_Why didn’t you tell me we were gone for so long???_

_“Sorry!”_

As you glance back over to your frazzled shipmate, you happen to let your eyes stray to Julian. He looks genuinely relieved to see you, but the moment you make eye contact he turns away. You stagger to your feet and the seal rights themself next to you.

“And why do you have a seal?!” Kaya flails her arms towards the creature. They urf, softly. They very helpfully leave you to handle the entire kerfuffle by yourself. You fold you arms behind you, and try and draw your full presence of Captain-ness. This is taking all your concentration and focus, but are you going to let yourself look harried in front of Julian? The answer is no, because _fuck Julian._ The seal stands attentive beside you, and Kaya’s breathing calms down, and she finally sighs, and grips your arm.

“First Mate, I’m just so fucking glad you’re safe. Captain Mazelinka would’ve keel hauled us all if we’d lost you.” Says the Navigator.

“A very good thing you haven’t then. Tell the crew I was…. “ You close your eyes a moment to fight through a wave of dizziness. Your sense of responsibility and decency is coming back in the presence of your crew. “No. I’ll tell the crew where I was. And you of course.” Something happened at the bottom of that hole when you thought of how you feel for all these people. The least you can do is give them your honest recollection. “Let’s head back to the ship, we need to set out tonight regardless.” You say. Navigator Kaya and Doctor Devorak exchange a look.

“Captain, er, First Mate Emsea, actually, we don’t.” Kaya says.  
“What?”

“Mazelinka’s back.” Julian says. You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“How? She didn’t have a boat?” You say. Kaya begins to lead everyone back in the direction of the ship, and you very clumsily keep pace, with Julian and the seal trailing behind like they’re both poised to catch you if- when- you fall.

“She got another one, much smaller, just a sloop. She wouldn’t tell me when I asked how she found us, just told the Doctor and I to go find you.”

“ ’If you can’t find them, find the seals.’ That’s what she said.” Julian mentions. There’s a sharp BORk!, and a yelp of surprise from Julian. You feel like whatever magic that was powering you for the last _two days_ is finally abating. But when your knees begin to flail, the arms of those around you catch you.

“Gods above. Doctor, can you just carry them-“  
“I- me? Carry them?”

“I don’t _need_ to be carried.” You say, as you shrug out of Kaya and Julian’s support and immediately faceplant into the sand. There is a concerned ‘urf’ in your ear.

           “In cases when you are unable to perform your duties, I outrank you.” Navigator Kaya says sternly. “Doctor, carry them. And be careful of the seal.”

“Very well. Sorry about this, Navigator’s orders.” Julian says. You can hear the slight edge of teasing in his voice alongside the sympathy. Still, his arms find purchase and lift you from the sand. You do your best to passive aggressively ragdoll, but there’s not much you can do about the warmth that spreads through you with proximity to his familiar sent.

“I know you probably don’t want to, but if you could hold onto me, this will be a lot easier.” He says, and brings you to his chest, carefully holding you under the legs. You sigh dramatically and wrap your arms over his shoulders, letting your head lean lightly against his. You’re so tired, and you’re so frustrated that after all that you still feel something towards him. The seal still follows behind faithfully.

 _….Together?_ You think.

“ _Together! Stronger together!”_

You feel Julian’s heart beating as you’re held close to his chest, and you snuggle a little closer to his neck, seeking warmth. You glance sideways at him. His ears are red. You smirk sleepily.

“Don’t try to take advantage of me now that I’m not Captain anymore.” You say. Julian tenses, and then laughs.

“Perish the thought. What sort of man do you take me for?” He jokes. You know he’s joking, but you still answer honestly. All things considered, probably out of spite as well as affection.

“… The good kind.”

Julian’s steps slow for a moment, and he hikes you higher up in his arms. You squeeze him a little tighter. His head turns towards you, but he hesitates. Even if it’s just for tonight, you want to be that selfish; you want to pretend it’s all okay. Then you feel the light press of his lips against your hair, and his voice, no more than a whisper.

“Thank you, dear. How I’ve missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * 1) What makes a good person, 2) Who deserves happiness. Really, on a macro level, it gets into the fundamental question of if there are ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ actions, which is a subject that has already been breeched in many very old, very long, texts. The author, however, is about four and a half years removed from their Philosophy Minor, so the subject will be left there.
> 
> ~~~~~~~
> 
> Yo.  
> I'm a little blown away by the response to this. Ya'll are super sweet and encouraging, and I'm super glad you're enjoying the tale. This chapter is lighter on the smooching, but I think we might be going up a rating in the next one.
> 
> Also if you don't know what nudibranchs are, google those little critters. Cute as all heck. 
> 
> I'm also thatkidryder on tumblr


	4. how to make regrets look like carefully planned plot decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Island Adventure and also Mazelinka hits everyone hard. The Apprentice AGGRESSIVELY backslides in terms of emotional growth, Julian makes a no good very indulgent decision.
> 
> *Rating going up with the addition of this chapter*

It would appear to be mid-day, when you come up from your extended night’s sleep. First Mate’s privilege, to catch a few extra winks as needed. You stretch, and nail the dismount from your trusty hammock in the crew’s quarters. Impressive, since you feel a bit groggier than usual, but nonetheless you make your way up to the deck. There’s ocean as far as the eye can see in every direction. Off the stern a smaller vessel keeps pace surprisingly well. The crew is hard at work, scrubbing the deck, coiling ropes, checking the sails. A perfectly normal day: the sun is warm, the air is salty, the wind is at your back.

Wait a moment.

Color rushes to your cheeks as you recall the events that led to your sleeping in, in the first place. You _confessed_ to Julian, and he _rejected_ you. You wandered into an uncharted forest like a reckless _moron_. You performed magic? Experienced magic? Magic’d magic? You grip the railing of the ship and look into the dark water below, getting the sudden sensation you’re going to color it with puke if you don’t get a hold of yourself. You’ve not experienced this sort of emotional and physical whiplash since that tavern in Praka, but at least that time you were still drunk when you woke up. You grab a nearby swabbie by the shoulder.

“Lad, where’s the Captain? And the Doctor, if you know.”

Details flash through your mind. Things you said, feelings you felt- that’s the worrying thing- it feels like you're seeing memories that aren’t even _yours_. You can hear your voice making the sounds, but the idea of actually saying them causes your gut to twist in protest. You’ve never been one to get sea-sick, but apparently love-sick is fair game. You force a straight face while you fight off the urge to gag.

“In the Captain’s Cabin, First Mate.” The swabbie finally says, and you immediately attempt to stride off, only to wobble and grab the railing again. The swabbie’s face is sullen with concern.

“Do you need a hand? We were awful worried seein’ you limp in the Doctor’s arms yesterday.”

You shoo the swabbie away and throw out your chest, gallantly faking the sense of wellness required for such an act(Don’t throw up don't throw up don’t throw up). Your sea legs slowly come back to you.

“Keep up that look on your face and it’ll stick that way.” You wink at the sailor, and he relaxes into a smile. You pat his shoulder as he returns to work, and carefully tightrope walk your way to the Captain’s quarters.

When you reach the door, you can hear raised voices inside, though one of them definitely isn’t human.

_The SEAL._

You remember your new rubbery friend, knock to be polite, and then assert your rank by coming in anyway(In retrospect, probably not a good idea, seeing as this is the _Captain’s_ quarters.) Mazelinka and the Doctor are having a spirited conversation, but both of them stop when they see you enter. Not one to be bound by the restraints of a human form, the seal cranes their neck over backwards to look at you. Because seals. Their entire blubbery mass twists and comes bounding towards you. They push their whiskered snoot into your hands and hum-whine at you. You kneel to rub their head.

_“Found me! Again!”_

You hear them in your mind. You smile at the critter and try to convey your relief at seeing they’re still here. Maybe they can shine some light on all this funny business. You straighten up and walk to Julian and Mazelinka, the seal sticking close to your side.

“About time you woke up.” The Captain huffs. She scowls, but you’ve known her long enough to see she’s glad to see you on your feet. Julian can’t seem to keep himself from smiling warmly at you.

“Thank goodness you’re alright.” He says. Then seems to remember himself, blushes, and looks away.

“That’s certainly one word to describe it.” You say, and look to the Captain. As much as you want to take an opportunity to tease Julian, you have more questions than boners right now. You sit heavily on the small bench across from her, and the seal rests their head on your leg.

“Captian.” You say, “What the hell happened?”

“I could ask you the same question.” She beckons you closer as if to whisper some secret, but when you lean in, she cuffs you across the head. It isn’t an insignificant blow.

“That’s for wandering off like a jilted toddler!” She explains. You rub your head. Fair enough, you suppose and hear a small snort from the seal. The Captain nods towards them.

“Your friend got a name?” She asks.

_“Saoirse!”*_

“Saoirse. Saoirse?” You glance down at them, still occupied rubbing your own head for the moment. “Why didn't you say anything sooner?” They boof quietly and your free hand is lightly coated in spit.

“ _No time! Unimportant.”_

“What? Of course your name is important- otherwise how will I remember you?” You look deep into their eyes. That might be in the list of top ten most interpersonal things you’ve ever said, and you said it to a seal. Things really are back to normal.

“Umm. First Mate, pardon my asking," Julian says, "but are you talking to, um, Saoirse?” You look up at him, absentmindedly mushing Saoirse’s muzzle around. Can’t turn up a good, tactile smoosh. Regardless, the absurdity of the notion doesn’t escape you, and you feel your face get warm again.

“No- well- yes, but they don’t talk. I guess they think?” You look back at Saoirse. They have nothing to add.

“Talking to seals, spilling your heart- what’s gotten into you Emsea?” Mazelinka chides. A new wave of anxious nausea hits you and you flop over sideways to avoid the world.

“Cap’n, that’s what I’d like to know.” You say, voice muffled under your own arm.

“Should I leave?” The Doctor asks.

“Not much point now.” Mazelinka leans back in her chair. “Emsea, Doctor Devorak already told his side of the drama between you two buffoons. Now it’s your turn.” You groan into your arm. Saoirse lies beside the bench and mimics you in a similar cadence. That makes you feel a little better, despite yourself.

“Are you sure he can’t leave?” You ask, and point roughly in the direction of Julian.

“You’d better pull yourself together before I do it for you, whippersnapper. “ Mazelinka threatens, and you slowly right yourself. You hate having to gamble that Julian is polite enough to just pretend not to listen.

“Cap’n I…” You start, but trail off. The words don’t want to come out. Letting them out would be an admission of having tried to take things to the next level with Julian-and furthermore an admission that you might actually want that and it's terrifying. You twist your mouth and run a hand over your own face as if that will calibrate things.

“I don’t know what I was thinking yesterday. I panicked? I guess? I wasn’t myself.” It’s the best phrasing you can give without being unable to stomach yourself. What kind of romance novel-ass lover tries to have ‘the talk’ after two fucking days??? 

“Why did you abandon your post, sailor?” The Captain looks down at you. Despite her short stature, she really is as intimidating as her post when needs be. “I outta have you lashed for disappearing like that. Think of it- an acting Captain strolling off into the wilderness and leaving their crew and ship to risk running aground on shallow reefs alone.”

That does sting in a more comfortable way. You'll take being scolded for your performance as First Mate over critique in regards to relationship building any day. Sure, you had been upset over things with Julian, but that’s no reason to put everyone that was depending on you in danger. If you'd never been able to return and the Captain hadn’t turned up…. What might have happened to everyone you left behind?

“I’m sorry, Captain. My behavior was unbecoming of my post. I’d take those lashes, if you’d ask it.” You say. It would be only right, and you don’t have any problem seeing that. The thought of your crew suffering for you lapse in judgment makes you cringe more than the idea of your back splitting open. Captain Mazelinka leans back in her chair and smiles.

“That settles it then. I think 8 is fair? One for every crewman you risked?” She says. You look at the floor. We’re really doing this, then. That’s karma, or justice, you suppose.

“Captain- wait- it was my fault.” Julian cuts in.

“Julian, _shut up._ ” You hiss.

“I could have stopped them from getting lost and I didn’t. I just sat there like a coward, stewing in my own remorse.” His face falls at the thought. “At the very least, I deserve to be punished too.”

You roll your eyes and then glare at him.

“Careful _Doctor_. Try not to mix your personal preferences into your professional life.”

You lean back in a huff and cross your arms. He wants to play the victim here? You’ll show him how it feels to be the victim. He turns on you, ready to argue back, but Mazelinka’s cackling cuts him off.

“Now that’s more like you two!” She laughs, grinning at both of you.

 

“…I’m not sure I follow.” Julian says. You nod slowly, one brow cocked in confusion.

“Neither of you were quite yourselves while you were near or on that island. I had a suspicion it might be to blame, but this proves it.” She says plainly. You must look as stupefied as you feel, because she keeps going.

“I’ve known both of you long enough to know something was off about your actions. Ilya letting someone else be in danger for once? Emsea actually going through with a serious romantic talk?”

You and Julian both feel your faces redden as Mazelinka puts you on blast. You glance about the room, looking for a way out of this embarrassment. The door is to far to make a break for it. The window? Cap’n would put you in the ground before you could even get past her. Julian sits down beside you and you immediately feel every hair on your body stand.

“Are we missing something here?” He says plainly. His recovery from the Mazelinka’s jab is impressive, almost like he’s been getting railed at for this sort of behavior his entire life.

“Possibly. Emsea, Saoirse being here is evidence enough for me, but I’m sure you experienced other things that imply that Island is magical?” The Captain says with a curious glint in her eye. Julian stares at you, horrified.

“ _Magical?”_ He practically spits the word. You think hard for a moment, and it upsets your stomach again. But somehow with Julian sitting beside you, it’s not nearly as bad as before.

“There was a pool and… and a door. It put me right out on the beach when…”

Your face grows red at the memory and you look down at Saoirse, who has settled their head back in your lap.

_“Together! Stronger together!”_

“I came out on the beach when I thought of Julian and the crew.” You mumble, and curl in on yourself a little. You don’t look at Julian- you can picture the shock giving way to a smirk well enough anyway. Mazelinka clucks her tongue.

“That’s probably the least surprising part of all of it. The fact you were able to escape being lost in there for good speaks to how deeply whatever was trying to trap you there didn't know who they were dealing with.”  She says it with a smile, but her words send a chill down your spine.

“Trap me?” You say. You’ve known there are people who want you behind bars for years, but trapped on a magic island? The Captain nods, and opens a drawer to pull out a map. There are notes written in her familiar hand around the Island- ship's and Captain's names, dates going back ten years…

“That Island has always been something of an anomaly. Ships that were charted to sail past it would suddenly find themselves on an entirely different stretch of water, happening upon everything from vessels sinking and in need of rescue to riches beyond their wildest dreams. Then about a decade ago, it stopped. Folks who tried to investigate started disappearing or being unable to make it into the lagoon at all. I was following up on a lead as to why that might be before I headed this way to see for myself. And low and behold my own ship was anchored at what might be the most cursed island on the whole damn sea.” She finishes. Julian shifts a little at the words ‘cursed island’, and you can only assume he’s having a harder time with this than you are. At least Mazelinka seems to have some idea of what’s going on.

“How did you know where to find me if we beat you here?” You ask, trying to understand the train of events.

“I have my ways. Word travels fast among ocean critters. My friends in deep places told me where they’d seen you, and the rest was just keeping everyone calm. No good getting folks more riled up when they’re already tearing their hair out with worry.” She says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Julian shifts a little beside you, and you can’t help but give him a knowing look. Worried about you, was he?

“So, Saoirse is Emsea’s familiar? Is that normal for them to meet at this age?” Julian asks, changing the subject, and you and Mazelinka both give him a curious look. He flushes and explains. “A magician I knew in Vesuvia said he received his familiar, a snake, when he was a child. He’d had her since she was a hatchling.”

You curiosity is more peaked now than ever about Julian’s mysterious old flame. What else do you have in common with this person? Mazelinka nods.

“Different people encounter magic at different points in their life. Your friend must be fairly powerful to have gotten his familiar so young- though that’s not to say Emsea won’t someday be powerful as well.” She says. That’s good to know at least, that getting in the magic game late isn’t the end of the…. Wait, powerful? 

“Captain…. Am I a wizard?” You crack a half smile. You don’t know much about magic, but you do know one thing: bitches love a magician.

“Don’t get a swelled head.” Mazelinka holds her first out, threateningly. “Anyone can learn magic, Saoirse just happened to be in the right place at the right time to give you a bit of a boost. Familiars are powerful allies. You’ll be wanting to keep that seal with you when you start to train.” Your brain takes a moment to catch up to the words, and then your body tingles with excitement(and maybe a little magic?). You slap your hands onto the desk, causing Julian to jump a little.

“Training?! Captain, are you going to train me?”

Saoirse waddles over to Julian and attempts to comfort him with a nuzzle, but they have about as much success as you would expect a magic seal to have comforting Julian Devorak. Mazelinka smiles, but shoos your hands off of her desk. You mind suddenly wonders if there’s any way she could know what you did to Julian on that desk. NO. BAD THOUGHTS. GO AWAY.

“I can teach you the odd potion or two, but you need a real teacher. There’s a good one near where we’re headed next.”

You lean back on the bench, giddy. You’d never thought about learning magic before, but thinking about the applications it could have on the ship is terribly exciting. You wonder how many weather spells there are. Are there sword fighting spells? You’ve got plenty of enemies out there you’d like to give a magical surprise, but that’s actually something to be concerned about now isn’t it? It would seem that Magic, like many things you’d hoped would be very simple, is actually going to be far more complicated than you’d prefer. You look up at Mazelinka, serious.

“Captain, this thing at the Island, do you think it might pursue me?” You say. The Captain sighs deeply, and returns your look.

“I won’t lie to you- it wouldn’t be impossible. Magical entities need a person or place to bind themselves to in order to interact with our world, so you wouldn’t  be helpless 'long as you keep your wits about you. But you’ll need to be cautious. People can be tempted to do strange and terrible things when they think it’s worth it.” Captain Mazelinka says. She gives Julian a quick glance, but he seems lost in his own thoughts. You feel strangely unsurprised at the idea that people can be swayed by magic entities- it’s not like it’s hard for people to tempt each other without magic. Maybe this won’t be so different from what you’re used to after all.

“So, magic’s there with sex, money, and alcohol as far as bartering chips go? Sounds right up my alley.” You grin. Julian snots in amusement, and then composes himself.

“Er, Captain, is there a reason you wanted me to hear all of this as well?” He asks. Mazelinka nods.

“I figured you deserved to know it wasn’t just your own stupidity that got you into this mess. There are things out there bigger than you Ilya, don’t forget it.” She says, cocking her slappin’ hand. He nods quickly.

“Right.”

 

~~~~~

 

It’s almost like Captain Mazelinka was never even gone. You slip back into your role among the crew, and with Saoirse trailing behind you, so do many others, across the deck. You aren’t entirely sure if Saoirse became slippery somehow, or if it’s just a natural quality seals have, like hagfish. The number of upturned swabbing buckets you find scattered in their wake makes you think it’s the first thing. It is admittedly fun to let Saoirse bORK at slacking crewmen rather than do the barking yourself. At dinner that night, you find yourself in a heated discussion with the Navigator over if Saoirse now outranks her. An agreement is eventually reached as everyone files out of the galley.

“So, in a case where I am acting unfit for position, you and Saoirse _combined_ have the authority to usurp me. If I’m just passed out, then Saoirse will be acting as my attendant/pillow, and you become First Mate.” You say, Saoirse wiggling happily at your side.

“ _Cuddles!”_

Kaya shakes her head and pretends to menace Saoirse.

“This isn’t over.”

 

You watch your crew wander off to find quiet spots to relax in, and do a last few checks about the ship before giving yourself the rest of the evening. You wander to the bow, and look over the dark water, peppered with shifting lights from the reflected stars above. The night air is cool and the placid sea give you a sense of peace and balance that is greatly needed after the past week. You pat Saoirse on the head.

“Saoirse, find something to entertain yourself okay? I’ll see you in the crew’s quarters later.” You give them one more affectionate stroke. “And don’t flip anyone’s hammock over.” Saoirse yawns dramatically.

“ _:3c”_

Saoirse scoots their way across the deck. Just when you're thinking you'll just stargaze for a while and head to bed, you hear a familiar voice give a quick evening greeting to your seal as he passes them. Julian arrives next to you and takes a deep breath. He’s close enough that his sleeve brushes against you, and you feel your heart leap a little. Stupid heart.

“Simply beautiful. And the sea’s not to bad either.” He gives you a sly grin.

“Don’t make me push you overboard.” You smile, and bump into him good naturedly.

“And miss out on the inevitable mouth to mouth resuscitation? I’d jump on my own.” His face breaks into that smile that is so uniquely him.

You turn to face him, wondering at his intents by seeking your out this evening, and run your fingers up his arm. He watches you, not shying away, not immediately seeking more. Just watching what you do.

There’s a lot more you care to think about than where this is going, what you’re really feeling, and if you’re okay with whatever that feeling is. For the moment he’s here, and you’re here. The stars are lovely and the ocean is calm. That’s not nothing. You reach his cheek and stroke it gently with your fingertips.

“I’d hate to be the shark that finds you in the water- just think of all the teasing from the other sharks when your prey yells out, ‘ _harder’_.” You say, teasing. He laughs, and it warms you.

“Imagine the look on their face if they ran in to you. I’d think it’s not everyday a shark finds something that bites back!” He says and you laugh too. You step around him, close enough to keep him in your orbit as he follows. You lean back against the fore-mast to appreciate the way the stars play the paleness of his face against the shadows. The sight sends an eager shiver through you. You hope you have enough self-control that it wasn’t noticeable. A lazy wave rocks the ship, and Julian takes another step towards you, arms on either side as though he was just bracing against the mast to keep his balance. But you’re no fool. You grab hold of his collar and tug downwards. He offers no resistance, though his pale skin grows redder. You speak quietly, right into his ear.

“So, which are you? The predator? Or always the prey?”

You press a kiss into his temple, and his arms come to your back so his black coat envelops you. It’s warm, and there’s a relaxation to him that’s been absent all day. He looks down to your lips and then slowly back to your eyes. There’s an element of initiative to him that hasn’t been there in the past, and it’s exciting.

“Come here." He says, "I’d prefer to let the expert decide themselves.”

He leans down, pressing his lips and tongue onto your mouth one moment, and then into it the next. You eagerly receive him, wondering at what else he might show you, and you let him hold you steady so you can reach up and touch his hair. You twist your fingers into the soft curls and he kisses you harder- bringing one hand on your nape and leaving the other around your waist. You’re touching from chest to hip and you feel like you can let go for once and just enjoy the ride. Still, you can’t help but push your luck a bit. You sneak your teeth onto his lip and to your surprise, instead of retaliating, he just groans and guides you to his neck.

“Don’t get shy now.” He goads, when you don’t immediately continue. “Or are you all talk?”

Oh no, that kinda makes you wanna bite him more, though that’s not a _bad_ thing. It’s fun, but you’re _letting_ him take the reins for a moment. Best he remember that.

You yank his hair with one hand and give his crotch a squeeze with the other. He stifles a groan at the contact(you are out on the deck, not in a private room after all), and holds you tighter. Can’t help himself, can he. You start with just attempting to suck bruises into his neck, and then move on to seriously sinking your teeth in. His breath comes out as a hiss and you rub your hand over the tenting in his pants.

When he leans you back against the mast, you bring your arms back to his neck and wrap your legs around his hips. He catches you quickly, though he doesn’t continue to pursue you in this new position. Rather he takes a second to try and control his breath while the weight of you is pushed deviously down onto his hips. The pause is inconvenient, so you give an encouraging shift against him and nuzzle against his cheek.

“What’s wrong pet, flagging out at the finish line?” You kiss his temple and press down onto that delightful pressure he’s sporting. There’s been so much to worry about over the last few days, so many emotions, so many questions. But this you understand- two people wanting each other so viscerally there doesn’t _need_ to be a conversation right now. This is about matched desires- no need to pay attention to the lightness in your heart because it’s with  _him_ and he _still wants_ _you_. No need at all. Nothing good has ever come of it. But now he’s still just holding you there and panting quietly, and you worry that he’s getting lost in the same worries you had the day before. You breath gently across his ear and feel his groin shift against yours'.

“Come on Ilya, don’t you want to fuck me?” You whisper, your thirst for him intensifying just from saying that. He shivers and kisses you in a moment of broken self reflection, and then he’s panting right against your mouth.

“You know I want to.” He presses up against you and kisses you again, hungrier and composure slipping. “I was a fool for rejecting you before, Magic Island or no….” He’s pausing again. Crap.

“But I’ve been down this road before,” He kisses you again. “and I don’t know if you’ll feel the way I will after if we… well.” He shifts and you rock in his grasp, keeping him close with your legs. Trying to keep him where you can keep enjoying yourself. Enjoying him enjoying himself. But if he’s going to make a bad decision, he needs to make it himself. You kiss him in quick succession.

“I’m not good at this Julian. If I feel anything after, I’ll just tell myself I don’t until it’s too much to bear.” You bite him and grind down on him and his eye screws shut and his throat has to _work_ to stay quiet. You continue.

“I’ve decided to let myself be weak tonight, and make a bad decision. It’s up to you if you’re going to do the same.”

He’s quiet(as he can manage), just breathing and he tips his head so his breath is right against your neck. Being this close to him feels so right. His lips are on your neck, and tip your head away, hopeful. There’s a delicious scrape of teeth, but he’s lowering you back to the ground. You sigh, thinking that’s that. Better luck next time. There’s always tomorrow for bad decisions, and the next day.

 

But as your feet settle on the deck, one of his hands comes to your front, over your stomach. The other rests on the wooden pillar, blocking any chance to escape, not that you're intending to. Your body buzzes, waiting. He finally makes eye contact with you, and just when you think it really is time for goodnights, his mouth twists into a wicked grin.

“Fuck it.” He says, and pushes you back against the mast.

Your face breaks into a wide grin and you grab his arm to shove it downwards you while you quickly loosen your belt. He slides his hand further into your pants. You guide him, feeling the tension in his arm and trying to abate it by whispering encouragement. When you finally feel his fingers against you, you purr and shift your hips, trying to accomplish _in_ and not just _on._ His face is adorably red as he twists his wrist, trying to please you. You wrap your arms about his neck and whisper to him.

“That’s right darling, don’t be shy. Don’t doubt for a moment how much I want you.” He swallows audibly and you trail one hand up and down his back, barely touching him so you can know it will tickle. His fingers, his very good, long fingers, you think to yourself, curl and prod around inside you, and when he brushes over a very good, very wanting area, you clench around him in every way you can to let him know.

“Ohhhh Ilya… right there.” You stroke his head and hope he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. With every motion he makes within you, your body sings his praises.

“You’re doing so good. So good for me.“ You say, and try and improve the sensation by giving him more of what you both enjoy. You work at his shirt so you can slide your hands up onto his skin, and draw your nails down his back. His pace picks up immediately and you groan his name into his hair.

It’s all so perfect. The press of his fingers, the needy sounds he makes when your nails score down his back, the heat of his breath contrasted with the cool ocean breeze past your face.

In one of your passes over his back, you dip down past his belt, and give a good handful of his ass a squeeze. He cranes his neck to kiss you, and you press him closer, closer, in every way. It’s his lips, his hands, his hips, his sounds, his warmth, it’s _him._ At blissful long last, your body tightens around him and you need to break away from his lips to gasp and whisper his name on each breath. You bring a second hand to his ass and push him towards you while you’re still hot and pulsing with ecstasy- even if you can’t have all of him tonight, you want him to know how badly you wish to. Every wave of pleasure that crashes through you is because of him. He brings one hand to your neck and hikes one of your legs up with the other, and grinds up against you. It heightens everything even more, just knowing he’s close. You dig your nails into him and grab his lower lip in your teeth. You want to make him feel as good as you do, want him to feel just as adored. You feel his ass tighten in your hands as he cants his hips against you again and again. He’s there, so close to you, feeling so good because of you. His breathing turns to gasps as he sighs shakily and slowly rides the feeling out. You swear you can feel your hearts pounding in tandem with your chests pressed together.

He lowers your leg back down, and before he can fully straighten up, you get on your tip toes and hold him to kiss him. A kiss for every drop of gratitude that flows through you. When you finish kissing him, he smiles and blinks at you slowly, tipping his forehead into yours while he basks in the fruits of this brief escape.

“I’d fall asleep standing here if there wasn’t a musty hammock with my name on it.” He says with a light chuckle. “Pity they don’t come in a double-wide.” He sighs and you hum in agreement.

The walk below deck isn’t appealing to you, as it means getting closer to the moment when you won’t be touching him anymore. You take his hand in yours’ and lead the way to the crews quarters, pausing once more at the top of the stairs to kiss him goodnight.

~~~~~

The belly of the ship is quiet but for the deep breathing of sleep. You lie in your hammock, chewing your lip, reminding yourself over and over again that casual lovers don’t kiss goodnight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pronounced “Seir-sha”. Irish name meaning ‘freedom’ or ‘liberty’. Some of you animation nerds will recognize it as the name of the selkie child in “Song of the Sea”(Moore, 2014)
> 
>  
> 
> there was a moment when this fic had 69 kudos and I felt like a God. Thank you for all of your kind words <3


	5. YO TELL ME WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A destination is set and Emsea lands a whopper. Two idiots finally reconcile their feelings for one another the only way they know how: badly.

 

You lean over the railing while Captain Mazelinka looks over the horizon through a spyglass. You groan loudly.

“Cap’n, where _are_ we going exactly?”

It’s been almost a week at sea. At this point, it’s more a question due to boredom than anything. You’ve played the entire crew at cards, you’ve read all of your(and Kaya’s) smutty books, and you’ve stacked as many things(29) as you could find on Saoirse’s head without them moving. It had been enough for a while, but you fell quickly back into the trend of passive flirting and spontaneous ill-advised makeouts with Julian. You’re comfortable with it: you’re both consenting adults choosing to make mistakes that happen to involve each other. If he still somehow wants something more than all this…

You still don’t. So, distraction. ANY kind of distraction, from the idea that you _could_ want anything more than what you already have from him.

The Captain tsk’s at you.

“Are you so dense you don’t remember these waters? I suppose it has been a few years since we’ve been over this way- we’re heading to Port Tremaire, in Brives. That’s where we’ll find your Magic Teacher.” She says. The name strikes a chord in you- a jaunty chord.

“Port Tremaine??” You say, excited by the(mostly coherent) memories that come to mind. A bustling trade center with as many places to cut loose as fish in the sea. There’s business to be had there during the day, sure enough, but when night falls all the dock workers hang up their hats and it’s a party till dawn!

“Does the crew know?”

Mazelinka silences you with a look.

“The Navigator obviously knows, but she’s got enough sense to keep her trap _shut_ lest everyone get so preoccupied planning how to slip away we don’t get any actual work done.” She shakes the spyglass at you. “That goes for you too! Remember, you’ve got a lot to learn when we get there- fun comes secondary.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly.

“Surely there will be _some_ time for fun?”

“Save it for someone who didn’t just use up a whole week’s worth of resources getting you here.” She scolds. You nod and get up from the railing to stretch. “We’ll be making port by mid-day today. Make sure you’re presentable by then.” The Captain adds as you begin to wander below decks. You turn on your heel and gesture to your week-worn, torn in places, salt and sweat smelling garments you wear.

“Captain- am I ever not?”

 

~~~~

You do suppose she’s right, and spend some time in the crew’s quarters digging through your trunk for something on the cleaner side, or at least less faded from the elements. If you’re going to put some effort into this magic thing, might as well start off with a good first impression. You manage to find a nicer shirt, and set about mending a hole in some trousers. It’s quiet, except for the sounds of light breathing and the occasional offended sound. There’s a single lantern lit by a hammock, and its occupant’s limbs spill out the sides awkwardly. Having technically done what was asked of you already, you weigh your options and decide if there won’t be any fun to be had once you make port, might as well seek some entertainment now. You’re only hurting yourself at this point after all, and you can deal with that.

You climb up into the adjacent hammock and peer over at the Doctor. He doesn’t seem to notice you, and you soon realize why. He’s nose deep in a book, with a slightly disgusted look on his face…… That’s one of your books.

“Dude, what the hell, that’s mine.” You reach across the gap for the book, teetering precariously. Julian starts and looks over at you, breaking into an easy smile when he sees it’s just you.

“Yours? Really? I would have thought you’d have better taste- it’s awful.” He teases with a grin. You scowl and continue to rock the hammock closer to grab your smut back.

“It’s porn- it doesn't have to be good, just hot.” You say, and the ropes holding you aloft creak in protest. Julian holds the book out, just within reach, but when your fingers brush the cover, he snatches it away again, clearly enjoying himself.

“Oh contraire. The _best_ smut has plot to it, characters you care about, concise writing with a purpose outside of getting the reader’s rocks off. This-“ He smacks the book with distain. “I’ve read medical texts with more artistry than _this_. _”_

You’ve put a fair amount of ‘umph into rocking the hammock you’re in by now, and on the next swing, when he dangles the book out in front of you, you grab onto _him_ instead. He flounders desperately in his hammock, as the sudden pull to the side causes both of you to teeter. He stares at you wide eyed, suddenly realizing who is really in charge of this scenario. You grin like a shark.

“Methinks, the lady doth protest too much. You’ve never seemed to mind things lacking a certain _fineness_ before.”

With a yank and tactile swing of your leg, you abandon your perch and scramble across the gap to Julian’s hammock. It rocks and groans under the combined weight, but you force yourself to maintain an air of calm as you arrange yourself on top of him and pluck the book from his shaking hand. He takes a moment to be as still as possible so the hammock will stop wavering back and forth. Only when things have stilled does he let out a breath and bring his hands to rest on your knees. You feel your heartbeat grow a little quicker as your body recognizes the positioning. Well, you can’t _not_ get up to something with him now. The fabric holding both of you lets out the small ‘pips’ of individual threads snapping as you dip down closer to him, feeling his face get hot at the proximity. He stares up at you, red, but seemingly more nervous than usual.

“Hmm, these really aren’t made for two people, are they?” He says with a slight tremble. “Perhaps there’s a more advantageous place this ‘conversation’ could continue?”

While the idea of messing with him when he’s trying so hard to keep still appeals to you, you’d admit the Captain won’t be particularly happy if you destroy a hammock in the process. Just one more resource you’d be claiming. But getting into hammocks isn’t the only hazardous thing about them- exiting isn’t that easy either. You look around at your options. None to the left, none to the right. None below you(well, one below you, but that’s a non-starter).

“Maybe… are you tall enough to reach the ground if we turn sideways? There is a _slight_ possibility I have made a bad decision.” You give him a bit of a bashful smile, and he grins carefully.

“You? Never. But yes, I think I can reach the floor. If you wouldn’t mind, ahem, pardon me…” He pushes himself up off one hand, and instead of kissing you, he holds you flush to his chest and carefully sits up. You freeze in his grasp, swearing you heard something rip and loosen, and cling to him while he starts to bring his legs over the side of the hammock, making everything shift around you. He’s going slowly, carefully, like he does when he’s stitching someone up or keeping time on a leeching. It’s not a side of him you get to see very often(you make a point of leaving his actual role on the ship well alone), so the safe feeling that comes to you while he holds you steady is a bit of a welcome surprise. You're even only slightly alarmed when you glance over your shoulder at the ground, a good 5 foot below.

“Hold on.” He says, and you cling with all your strength so he has use of both arms. Carefully, he grips the hammock in a T-pose while slowly sliding towards the ground. When he releases it, sure enough, he’s standing. You stay attached to him a moment too long, and when his hand comes to rest gently on your back, you hop down and turn away so he doesn’t see you blushing furiously. Your arms tingle from holding him so tight. Only one reasonable thing to do now.

“Well, see ya.” You mutter, and bolt. You hear stunned silence followed by a warm laugh as you race up the stairs and feel your face get hotter.

WAY TO GO GENIUS

~~~~~

 

You sit at the stern of the ship, Saoirse acting as a cushion, and watch your line in the water. Fishing is simple. You get a line, you get a hook, you bait the hook, you catch a fish. You’ve done it hundreds of times before. You’ve also hooked up with people before. You show you’re interested, you mess around, you don’t get attached, you leave. Simple, clean, easy. You’re two for two on trying for anything more ending horribly, why give three for three a chance when two and a half is going so well?

Is it going well?

“Do seals have relationship problems?” You ask, and let a finger rest on your line, feeling the bait get pulled along in the water.

“ _Harem! Fight! Better here though. Don’t want more than friends.”_

“That’s perfectly valid.” You say, and lean back on Saoirse’s bulk. It’s getting cloudier the closer you get to Brives, and the breeze cooler. You shiver a bit and pull your coat closer around your clean shirt. Maybe all the grossness on your other shirt was a form of insulation. You wish Julian was here with you so you could huddle up for warmth. Wait nononoonono you don’t- you don’t. Anyone would do- it doesn’t have to be him. Anyone attractive and willing would be just as good and mean just as little… why does that thought make you so sad?

Luckily there’s a sharp tug on your line, and you have something else to occupy your thoughts. It’s so powerful you need to grip the rod with both hands and brace against your gut. Whatever you’ve hooked into is _big_ , and the strain on your arms brings a wicked grin to your face. This will be a fight, and you’re good at winning fights.

It won’t be an easy one though- the next few tugs scoot you forward on the deck, and Saoirse lumbers around to your front to lay across your lap for more support.

“Thanks!” You grit your teeth and gain some line back. The sails begin to rise above you and the ache in your arms lessens. You wonder if you’re pulling into port already? You’re looking at where you’ve been, not where you’re going. Were it not for the blood pounding in your ears, you might have heard the Captain’s angry approach.

“First Mate! I told you to be presentable- Saoirse, get off of them!” The Captain barks. Saoirse whimpers and rolls off of you, and the sudden lightness nearly pulls you to your feet. You lean back as hard as you can, trying to anchor yourself to the deck with your rear. You feel a strong grip on you shoulder and a surge of tingling energy down your arms. You feel the magic at your mentor’s touch, and the advantage shifts in your favor.

_Bring it you aquatic bitch._

“What the hell are you hooked into?” Mazelinka growls and pulls back with you. With her help, you don’t feel quite as much like you’re going to be pulled overboard, and manage to take in more line. Your arms are screaming again and you laugh out loud.

“Cap’n! Could I use magic for this? What do I do?”

“Hell if I know!”

You focus on the tingling, flowing from your shoulders down you arms. You take a deep, centering breath and give a mighty yank. You rumble out a yell from the deepest part of your chest. There’s a splash, and there, bobbing on the surface of the water, is a shape any pirate worth their treasure would recognize. A sunken chest, now risen. Precious, precious booty.

 

With a loud THUNK, the chest, slimy with algae and mollusks, is hauled aboard. It bears a rusty padlock, expensive looking molding on every rivet, and weighs a ton. You pluck your hook from where it’s snagged in the lock, and toss the unclaimed bait to Saoirse. You give the rusty lock a few good kicks with the heel of your boot, and it contorts slightly before snapping. You run your fingers under the lip of the lid, your whole body buzzing with excitement, and it falls open with a damp clunk. The Captain whistles her approval.

Gold, cut jewels, and bits of fabric that seems to shift and catch the little light from the sun lie in a heap. You reach in, almost without thinking, and run your hand over the wet coins. They’re cold and weighty in your hands, and clink pleasantly as they knock into one another. Just the action of touching them does wonders for your mood- this is how you know you’re in the right line of work. You lift a handful of the coins and watch them drop back down into the horde. Something stirs in your gut, and you can’s help imagining lying on a bed of coins, feeling the cool metal against bare skin.

“AHEM.” The Captain coughs behind you and you look over your shoulder sheepishly.

“Of course, the regular split? Even shares all around?” You say. As much it would be nice to take it all for yourself, sharing evenly is one of your favorite rules Mazelinka keeps. She smiles and nods.

“Bring it to the cabin and we’ll count it out once we dock. Maybe we can make _some_ time for everyone to have a night off.” She says, and starts to lead the way to her quarters. You and Saoirse push and pull the chest along after her, drawing attention from anyone nearby. They hoot and holler at the welcome, though surprising, sight, but you’re too lost in your own head to notice. This treasure is a boon- a chance to get your mind off of Devorak- a chance to prove you still know who you are. You’ll find someone desirable who doesn’t expect anything from you but the coins in your pocket. You wonder if Julian is the type to get jealous, but if he does, wouldn’t it make it easier for him in the end? He wouldn’t be in such a precarious position in the first place you could just get your damn heart off your sleeve.

~~~~

 

Port Tremaine is quite aware of it’s reputation, thank you very much. At the end of a day of business inland and trade on the docks, everyone needs somewhere to unwind. Where else can you find the variety of people, food, drinks, and culture? It’s where an adventurer can dream of visiting far away places told of in tales. It’s the spark to light a fire in the heart of a young rapscallion, a balm to sooth the nerves of a long toiling fishwife after getting an earful from her missus, the sea. The whole crew, except for the Captain and two killjoys, come out for a night of drinking and revelry at the local tavern/inn. You, Julian, and Kaya make light conversation over a few rounds. When you notice Julian start to linger in proximity to you, you take it as your cue to leave.

“Well, not every shore leave I’ve got money to spare for an actual bed _and_ someone to warm it. Navigator, Doctor.” You smile as you turn to leave, but it falters when you accidentally lock eyes with Julian. He looks stricken at your sudden departure, and your chest hurts for a moment. You punch it down like you’re trying to clear heartburn. This is normal. This is how you’ve always done things. You force your body to move, and make your way to the bar to rent a room.

 

You’re already dressed to the nines(okay, six and a half including the seal slime), so it doesn’t take long for you to find out who’s selling. You start with drinks in the main room, and your companion sits in your lap and tells amusing stories of previous clients, odd requests, and of course, flirts shamelessly. It’s so easy to laugh and feel casual with them- a true professional. They let their hand linger on your leg for a moment, and you draw it up to your lips to kiss it.

They smell of vanilla, and you haven’t felt skin this soft in months. You press kisses up their arm to their neck and cheek, savoring the feeling on your lips like a salve for your twisted heart. You deserve this, you think to yourself as their hand comes to your neck to guide you closer. You’ll have all of them by the evening’s end, and the only questions you’ll have tomorrow will be what the final tab comes out to. The kisses are by no means chaste, but while enjoyable, they aren’t particularly remarkable.

You bring your mouth to their ear, ready to suggest it’s time to move things upstairs to your room, when a loud, meaty, ‘ _THWAK’_ rings out. A large woman comes crashing _through_ the table you had been sitting at. You grab your companion and leap out of the way, suddenly aware of what’s been started in the rest of the room. Punches are flying between five or more patrons, and _someone’s_ going to have to break it up. Your companion lingers in your arms, and you quickly bring their lips to yours’ before they head for cover.

“Don’t go far.” You wink roguishly, though fear flashes through your mind that one of your friends might be mixed up in all of this. If you can subdue whoever is most invested in this fight, the rest will go back to minding their own business. But in this brawl, everyone involved looks like they were just chomping at the bit to get going. Several of them are bleeding and the woman who was thrown through your table hasn’t gotten up… but one of the flashes of red you see isn’t blood- it’s hair.

_Julian what the fuck._

You watch, stunned at the realization, as Julian _doesn’t_ dodge out of the way of a very obvious incoming punch. His head cracks sideways, but he somehow stays standing, stays _grinning_ , and just turns back around to spit his own blood at his opponent.

“Please. I’ve met _lepers_ who hit harder.” He snipes at them, giving at least as good as he’s getting. But before you get too wrapped up in being impressed, you put two and two together and figure just who probably started this fight.

He’s so focused on the brute in front of him, he doesn’t notice you sneak around behind, carefully take the back of his coat, and whip it over his head. He grabs at the fabric, sputtering curses, and his opponent takes the chance to sweep Julian’s legs out from under him. The Doctor falls to the ground in a groaning heap.

The people he’s been throwing down with still don’t look too pleased, so you grab him by the shoulders and rip the coat from his face, making a show of his confusion by giving him a few good natured slaps on the cheek.

“Alright, alright, yes, yes, Doctor good show, good show. Can’t hold his drinks this one, starts thinking he’s got something to prove!” You laugh loudly, getting a few other patrons to laugh along too. “Come along now, lets get you to bed.” Julian snorts at your commentary, and actually shrugs you off of him. Your smile twitches in frustration, but you’re putting on a show right now, so you just grab him again more firmly and pull him to his feet. People are returning to what they had been doing before instead of vying to get a few more shots in at the trouble-starter. Finally someone tends to the woman who was thrown through a fucking table. You hiss into Julian’s ear as you drag him towards the stairs, shoving him roughly into the railing.

“What the _hell,_ Doc?”

He _sneers_ at you. Ouch.

“Oh? I thought you were _busy_ so I decided to find my own fun.”

He’s not actively bleeding anymore, and you know all his wounds must be healing. But he’s still covered in blood, and you get the feeling he’ll just go looking for more fights elsewhere unless you intervene.

“You know they have people you can pay for that here, right?” You say, and begrudgingly heft his arm over your shoulders. There goes this jacket being clean. He allows you to shoulder him this time, but chuckles darkly, spitting another glob of bloody spit at the feet of another beaten patron. They glare at him and you move faster.

“I’ve never had a taste for hired pleasure, dear. Doesn’t have the _fineness_ I seek.” He says. He keeps his head down and you roll your eyes. That was a jab if you’ve ever heard one. You spot your brief companion, who watches from beside the wall, eyes twinkling with an innate understanding of what they see.

“Darling, I don’t suppose you could get word along for some hot water to be sent up?” You ask with a thankful smile, and they give you a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

 

~~~

You heft the Doctor onto the bed, and immediately shed your own now- bloodied coat, assessing the damage of your also bloodied undershirt. The Captain will have words, you’re sure.

“Uhg. Now I’ll have to pay for laundry too. Blood all over this thing now- I outta make you buy me a new jacket!”

You huff angrily. Julian is more cognizant again and removes his own coat and gloves. His loose fitting shirt is dotted with red as well. He’s gone quiet- rather unusually. He wipes some of the still wet blood onto his pants.

“Hey,” You grab his wrist before he can spoil more clothing. “Stop that, that’s just one more thing that needs washing.”

He finally looks at you and his eyes are…. Cold. You drop his wrist and take a step back. He’s never looked at you like that before- to say it’s unsettling would be an understatement. There’s silence for a moment as you stare at each other. He doesn't blush, and neither do you. The weight of it all slowly churns inside you.

 

“ _What?_ ” You finally say, your tone harsh. He sneers at you, again, and you have the urge to punch him back to bloody.

“Oh, I doubt it’s anything that you’d care about. That’s why whores are so much better right?” He snaps. Are you really surprised that’s what this is about? You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself to little avail.

“Watch it, unless you really want to get hit in the head.” You threaten, fists clenching.

“I prefer to think of it as re-calibration.” He grins, and stands to pace away, pacing pacing, pacing, and you feel like you’re being wound tighter with every step he takes. He finally stops and stares at you, gesturing extravagantly.

“I haven’t thought this clearly in weeks. It’s just not worth it, is it? You and I- on any level: you’re frightened of more and I’m hurt by any less. You’d think I’d be sick of this song by now.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Your stomach twists and your heart beats uncomfortably hard. It's nothing new to you, and yet it feels like an accusation.

 

“… We’re just friends, Julian. It’s better that way. I’m not…” Your face gets hot, but you stand your ground, gesturing to all of you and all of him. “This is the best I can offer.”

There’s a knock at the door, giving a blessed break from this conversation you’d really prefer not to be having.

“Someone called for hot water?” Says a voice. You let them in and the bar boy has the grace and sense not to comment on the tension in the room or the state of either of you. You pick up your bloodied coat.

“Here, and a wash for these.” You grab up Julian’s coat as well.

“Shall I send up some robes and take the shirts as well?” He asks innocently. Julian lets out a sharp, pained, laugh. You actually wish you were dead.

“No, thank you.” You mutter.

The bar boy takes the clothes and shuts the door. You stay leaning against the wall while Julian and paces, adding sweat to the mix of blood and grime. The basin of water, a rag, and a towel sits in the middle of the room. You had thought he’d have given up by now, and you’d be able to get him cleaned up and off to sleep like an angsty child, but he’s determined to draw this out. You sigh and walk to the basin.

“Get over here.” You say, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“You and I both know what will happen if I come over there.” He grimaces.

“You’ll get clean?? Come off it man, I’m not some ravenous animal!” You say, a little louder than you mean to. He finally stomps over, glowering. This is the first time you’ve noticed the height difference between you two and thought it was intimidating. You take the rag off the basin he snatches it from you.

“You have an interesting way of treating your _friends._ Already bored of all the swabbies by the time I came around? Was that all this was?”

“Fuck off, you know it wasn’t like that.” You cross your arms. You want to punch him, but the idea of making him more miserable makes you want to cry. He dabs at his face and arms. _This is your fault. This is all your fault._ You go on the defensive instead.

“You turned _me_ down. I never expected anything else after that. I never-“ You start, words falling out of you like if you free enough of them, they’ll somehow fix of all this. _They never have. They never do._

“I said I was wrong!” He says, and throws the rag down into the water with a splash. “I apologized and told you I was _wrong,_ and _you_ kept seeking _me_ out.” He looks at you, pain stark across his features. It turns your stomach to see him like this. “What was I supposed to glean from that hmm? That I had one chance at happiness with you and some fucking Island ruined it for me?” He takes a single step towards you and you flinch back further. You don’t flinch- why did you flinch??

He wanders and sits heavily on the bed, running his hands through his hair. Those same hands you sought out and tempted like they could have been attached to anyone, only they weren't. He’s all legs and arms, but he’s folding himself in as small as he can get. He sighs.

“I thought I had ruined everything, but you came back. Was it so wrong to think everything was just okay?” He looks miserably at you, no more anger, just stricken, stricken hopelessness. Well, not hopeless- that would mean you’re not watching the last bits of hope leak out of him this very second. Your eyes feel… sour. Must be sweat, or dirt. You head for the wash basin and your body trembles as you breath.

“You could have left at any time- you still can. I didn’t force you to stay, I never said....” You manage. You throat feels tight.

_But if I had let you leave, I would have really lost you for good._

But isn’t that what you did this for? Isn’t _this_ what you wanted? Why are you trying to change who you are?

“Would you offer a man, newly sober, a drink because you’d hate to drink alone?” He says weakly. “Would you expect him to be able to say no to you?” He gives you the smallest of smiles, and your vision blurs for a moment before you blink it away. It stings your eyes, what he says. Of course you’d known he’d probably agree- he’s too self-destructive not to.

“I didn’t make the decision _for_ you, Julian. All I did was-“ Your thoughts leave you as he stands up and pulls his bloody shirt off in one motion. The sight of him stuns you, amber lit by the sconces on the wall, all sharp angles and pale, blood-mottled skin. He balls up the shirt, throws it in the water basin, and sits back down, facing away from you.

A shiver runs through you and you breathe a bit faster, shakier.

You fucked up. You really, really fucked up. You told yourself you’d be able to distance yourself from caring, because if you didn’t care about him anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to give him the blame- but it _does_ hurt- it hurts to see him bitter and miserable because all you want is for him to feel joy and you want to receive that joy from him too, you just couldn’t conceive of a path to it! Anchoring yourself to one person, one person who wants you just the way you are, and whatever you may become- it’s not something you could achieve- it would mean struggle every step of the way to change enough to let someone else in, and yet he’s become more precious than you ever intended anyway, and dammit why are you this way?

 

 

 

“I fucked up.” You say. Something in you, something hard and jagged, has broken. “I panicked because if I wanted anything more with you and… and I fucked up.” Your entire face feels hot, and your vision gets blurry. You wipe furiously at your face and don’t have a choice but to look away. You don’t have the words to explain it all anyway- they don’t exist.

“Fuck!” You say, and your voice doesn’t sound the way you’re okay with it sounding. It sounds broken and scared and it’s admitting to things you never intended to admit to, faster than you can stop it.

“I realized I cared about you more than I thought I could care about people and I just… I panicked, I got so scared, but I didn’t want to stay away, and it was selfish and unkind and…” When you can look at him again, he’s just staring at you, shocked, it seems. Emotions bubble back up through you and down your cheeks. You grind your teeth and wipe them away.

“Well fucking _say something!_ ” You choke out, and he starts.

“I… well.” A prickle of pink tinges his cheeks. “I, erm, didn’t think it would be that easy. Not that it was easy! That wasn’t the right thing to say- how do I put this I suppose I'm… relieved?”

You sniff your feelings back inside, _where they fucking belong_ , and cross your shaking arms. At least he’s not the one you made cry.

“Well that makes one of us.” You grumble. You shiver for no apparent reason, and the feelings come gushing back out via eyes and nose. Gods why won’t it stop. You feel like a stiff breeze could knock you ever, and you’re not even tired. Just weak and stupid. Julian almost stands, but instead awkwardly gestures beside himself on the bed.

“Would you, like to sit down and, um, talk?” He says. You shake your head no, but walk over anyway. This isn’t about what you want.(Well, it is about what you want, but you don’t want yourself to want what you want. At least, you _think_ you don’t want to want what you really, really want.) You sit down, still clutching yourself, and he gives you plenty of room. What a pair you make, half undressed and red faced for all the wrong reasons.

 

“So… hmmm. I wasn’t really expecting this.” Julian says, fingers drumming nervously. “I still care about you too, obviously. So where do we go from here?” He seems to have beaten you back to being 'sensible' and 'calm'. Damn him. You hardcore disassociate from all the stress.

“I’m going to buy myself a headstone, get someone to tie me to it, and then jump into the ocean.” You stare blankly at the floor and it’s quiet for a moment. This is a good plan. Julian laughs beside you and somehow you feel a little better. It's like a conditioned response.

“I doubt your trusty pinniped would allow that.” He smiles at you, and you feel slightly more present. Your tears are in less of a rush to escape. Julian gets a little red again.

“I’d of course, try and stop you from doing that too.” You laugh a little, despite yourself, and look at him. You share a brief, wonderful moment of both just being huge messes and wanting to comfort one another, but eye contact is a bit too much right now. You look away but shift closer so your arms are brushing. The feel of his cool skin through your sleeve ebbs just enough tension away for you to be frustrated again that you ruined your good shirt, and that this is what the night turned into.

“FUCK!” You yell, and ungracefully yank your shirt off and throw it into the basin. You miss because it wasn’t balled up properly first, and that’s how physics works. You stomp over to where it landed, deposit it in the basin, and stomp back. Julian watches you with a fond smile. You rub your damp eyes and groan.

“I’m not cut out for this- I’m really not. But you want to try anyway? You’ll be miserable and sad forever if we don’t try?” You mumble, and finally let yourself lean into him. God it feels so nice to touch him right now. His skin is almost clammy from the cooled water, but it’s somehow better than anything you’ve felt before. Everything is finally slowing down to a manageable pace.

“Well, if you truly don’t want to, we could leave it at that.” He sighs sadly. “But I can’t do these casual encounters anymore, however pleasant it might be in the moment, I just can’t. How I wished I would be able to just let it be and live with how things were, but who am I kidding?” He wraps his long arms around you and pulls you into his chest; you grab his arm and scoot closer him, gripping tight. Now that you’re here it feels so much better just to be in his arms again, you hate yourself for being such a coward in the first place. He leans over and kisses you lightly on the head, and you hide your face so he can’t see you smiling stupidly, a few happy tears having slipped out too.

“I want this, more than I’ve wanted anything for myself in a long time.” He says, and his words tickle through you.

_You want this too._

The thought jolts through you, unimpeded, and it makes you shiver. It’s wild, and frightening, but it’s there and at least now you’ve acknowledged it. You push yourself upwards and rub your cheek against his. It’s rough with stubble, a little sticky with sweat, and now damp from your excess of feelings.

“I- want this too.” You choke out, and turn around completely to just hug him. He embraces you readily, and you feel your hearts pounding with affection. Affection, and so, SO much anxiety as you press into each other’s chests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kids, intentionally causing jealous rages and yelling at someone until they have a panic attack and ugly-cry their true feelings at you is only okay in fiction. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos- it's like every morning I wake up to little digital presents.


	6. bath house porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC and Julian act like adults, followed by not acting like adults, concluding with some ADULT CONTENT. 
> 
> #touchthatrump2019
> 
> Pun Counter: 1

The talk in the morning isn’t comfortable, but you’re starting to expect that committing to change, committing to… this, is going to involve some things you’ve previously avoided. Communication is one of the tenants of a healthy relationship and apparently that’s what you’re aiming for now. However, anything contributing to that foundation, however solid, still gives you the sensation of someone pushing a long, sharp, needle into you, and all you can do to make it go away is squirm and keep talking. Fortunately, Julian is a doctor. If anything, he’s charmed by the way you punch the mattress intermittently throughout the conversation (he might just be enthused imagining getting to be on the receiving end of all that emotion later). You wonder if he’s just glad he can understand fidgeting through the discomfort. Eventually a few things are established: For the foreseeable future neither of you will take other partners. You will both seek to embellish one another’s goals with mutual support. If anything changes, talk first, act later. Butt stuff is fair game.

With these tenants in place, you both descend to the main floor to retrieve your hopefully clean clothes.

 

But that, of course, would have been too easy. In a back room, the Innkeeper looks ready to cry as they pass you what remains of your jacket. One of the sleeves is still attached (by a thread), some of the buttons are still present (not all), and tiny tooth marks accent the front panels (they already had accents, this was an unnecessary addition). Julian is off in the corner, cooing over a litter of 6-week old puppies and their dozing mama.

“I’m SO very sorry!” The Innkeeper falls to their knees dramatically. Well that’s not uncomfortable for _anyone_ involved. “We’ll reimburse you for the damages- unless you want a dog instead?? Please take a dog instead.” They offer jokingly, but there’s an undertone of seriousness to the statement. In the corner, Julian sits down as he becomes a new-and-exciting-thing for the puppies to climb on.

“A tempting offer, but it’s much easier to replace clothes with money than dogs.” You say, spreading the torn silk in your fingers. Some of the shine glimmers weakly at you.

The Innkeeper slowly rises to their feet and then stands bolt upright, as though they’ve remembered something vitally important!

“One moment, I think I have a solution to this.”

They skitter off, back into the inn and you wander over to Julian (conquered by brave explorers: XX-XX-XXXX) and the furry family. He’s lying prone on the ground with five pups curled up on his chest, and one attempting to wrestle his eye-patch from his head. You crouch next to him and stroke the dog pile. The one trying to unmask him seems to take more effort to stave off than you’d think.

“Um, a little help?” Julian asks, trying to stay as still as possible for the sleeping pups while also not loosing his accessory to the same fate as your jacket.

“Of course. Hold still.” You have to force your mouth from curling with malicious intent. Opportunities such as these are not to be wasted, and you’ve had enough of being the one made vulnerable for the next year or so. You wait for the puppy to firmly latch around the eye-patch and nab the dog around the waist. The eye-patch slips free of Julian’s head, and the little dog wiggles about trying to keep you from pulling away its prize. You hold the dog above Julian, grinning in victory. He slaps a palm over his eye and stares at the ceiling.

“Hmm. I suppose I should have clarified _whom_ I was requesting the help for.” He says. You lean over into his eye-line.

“You should know by now- I only help myself.” You lean down and give him a quick kiss on the nose. It makes you a little giddy that you just get to do that now.

No, it must be that you got the _upper hand_ that made your heart go all a-flutter. Surely.

“Oh? I must be lucky then to keep reaping the benefits.” He smiles up at you, but his eye remains covered. The puppy struggles in your arms, and you convince it to release the eye-patch in exchange for the freedom to commit further mischief. Once it toddles off, you cage Julian in with one arm on each side of him and lean down close to his face. His visible eye gets wider and he grins up at you, brow arching into this mussed hair.

“Show me what you’ve been hiding and you’ll reap more benefits than getting your fashion back.” You whisper against his ear. He shivers, takes a slow, calming breath, and sighs dramatically.

“You drive a hard bargain.” He says as he removes his hand. You brush the soft hair from his face and lean closer to examine the hidden treasure that’s been in front of you this whole time. He blinks few times, getting just a teensy bit pink in the cheeks, but doesn’t try to hide his ruby red eye away. You’re surprised, but not put off. You also aren’t completely sure what this means. Everyone in Vesuvia during the Red Plague warned outsiders to beware red sclera, but Julian very obviously isn’t sick. You hold his head, tracing your thumb across his right temple, and lean down to kiss him properly; gently, reassuringly, you hope. He hums quietly against you and returns your affection. When you pull away, he’s delightfully gone a few shades pinker.

“Well, there it is.” He says quietly.

“There it is.” You agree and kiss him again. A few of the puppies slide off to join their mother (there are minors present gosh). You can’t help but think how you would like to reward him properly if you were somewhere more private. His hand cards through your hair as you lean over him and he looks at you fondly.

“You’re not frightened by it? It’s not contagious. The eye-patch is really to keep the crew from worrying and a bit of a disguise.” He says.

“It’s a bad disguise, and I’m not frightened by it.” You say plainly, and lean down to his ear.

“And I know that was difficult for you-“ You enunciate your point by giving his ear a quick nip. “I’ll have to show you how appreciative I am later.” His complexion threatens to rival the color of his eye, and you give him a final, satisfied, kiss just in time for the Innkeeper to return. You stand, dropping the eye-patch directly on top of his face, and leave him to deal with it.

The Innkeeper walks up and hands you both the tattered jacket and a thick letter with an address written on it.

“Here, this is the address of a local tailor.” The Innkeeper is practically vibrating with excitement. “She owes me a favor, so go there and tell her I sent you. Also ask her if she wants any dogs.” Your pirate senses tingle as you turn over the letter and give the Innkeeper curious look. This letter is absolutely blackmail or some kind of threat, but hey, who are you to judge?

“Thank you, that’s incredibly helpful. Doctor, lets be on our way.” You stand and wait for Julian to carefully remove the remaining pups, gently as possible. You lay the remains of your jacket on the ground beside the mother dog and the pups sleepily waddle over to nestle in it. You stroke one of the small soft critters.

“Grow up big and destructive, and make lots of bad rich people miserable.” You say. Julian can’t help but laugh at this and pulls your arm into his as you head out on your mission.

 

You make a quick stop by the ship to alert Mazelinka of your surprise errand, and after she’s finished berating you for further putting off your training, you and Julian find your way to the tailor’s. The streets are bustling this far into the town, and it doesn’t escape you that not only advertisements decorate the walls of buildings here- this is a popular trade depot, and there are wanted signs from all different countries. You keep your wits about you, but feel a bit of tension walking arm and arm with Julian. You’ve made it through Tremaire without being recognized before, but two wanted criminals are harder to miss than one.  
“Keep an eye out.” You say under your breath. “Port Tremaine is a vagabond’s playground, but there are just as many people who’d see us hang as help us in a pinch.”

“Well, I don’t want to alarm you, but I did make a bit of a scene last night.” Julian comments. You glance around the street, but don’t see anyone you recognize from the Inn. You’re so focused on keeping an eye out for anyone Julian might have punched last night, you don’t notice a man holding several expensive looking bottles of wine rushing towards you until it’s too late and you crash right into him. By some miracle or dedication, he doesn’t stumble or fall, but he still looks pissed.

“Have you never encountered manners before? Get out of my way.” He says. Your temper flares for a moment. You didn’t even make him drop any of his precious wine bottles, but maybe you’ll smash one now. He doesn’t seem to think the bristling scowl of a nobody is worth his time though, and is intent to move along as soon as possible. He pushes past you, glaring, but his steps slow for a moment when he sees Julian beside you. He huffs loudly and doubles his pace. You watch him go, pondering if it’s worth it to chase him down and rough him up a bit.

“Asshole.” You mutter, but then you notice Julian seems to have gone catatonic. “Julian?” You jostle him slightly, and he comes back into himself.

“ Ah- sorry dear, we should go. Now.”

He takes off at a pace that you almost have to run to match, all the way to the Tailor’s shop. Once inside the door, he frantically looks about to ascertain if there’s anyone else present. You can hear someone moving around in the back, but the shop is empty of other customers. You tug Julian down to whisper to him.

“Did you recognize that man?” You say urgently. Julian frowns and it’s all you need for the fear to wash over you. “Is he going to turn you in?”

“Oh most certainly. He’s already had a go of trying to pin me for regicide.” Julian grimaces. You pull him further into the shop away from the window. Your goal has changed from lying low to simply disappearing as soon as possible. You’re about to suggest you abandon your textile quest and head back to the ship when the Tailor comes out to the counter.

“Yes, can I help you?” She asks sweetly. You look from Julian to the door and hand her the letter.

“I was asked to bring you this.” You say. The Tailor looks at you curiously, but seems to relax when she recognizes the Innkeeper’s handwriting. While she takes her sweet time reading, your fingers twitch to the hilt of a dagger in your belt. You nudge Julian slightly to draw his attention to it, and shrug towards the Tailor. You’ve convinced rougher types than her to keep quiet and offer sanctuary before, but Julian shakes his head. The Tailor pulls you from your silent disagreement by exclaiming loudly.

“OH! That brutish fellow of mine!”

You and Julian exchange a glance, and the Tailor disappears into the back once again, returning with three or four jackets that look about your size. You’re happy enough to just grab the first one off the pile and get out of here, but the Tailor insists you try all of them on first. To your dismay, Julian is so uncommonly eager to seize a chance to dress you up, that he seems to have forgotten that you really need to hide as soon as possible. You’re helpless to stop him from bickering with the Tailor over everything from the colors of fabric, to the texture, to the patterns... You groan, but on the inside. They go back and forth about how the different fits and styles work with the rest of what you’re wearing, until they finally settle on a _fifth_ jacket that is taken off a mannequin. You pull the lapels of the coat and give a quick turn.

“Well?” You glare at both of them, crossing your arms impatiently.

“Seaworthy, intimidating despite the size, and the coat’s not bad either.” Julian says with a smirk. Oh you’re going to kill him. The Tailor beams at the selection and is about to bombard you with instructions on how to properly care for the garment, but Julian FINALLY takes you by the arm and back onto the street.

“I thought we’d never leave-“ But before you can finish your thought, a pair of guards accompanied by the angry wino come around the corner. You don’t think they’ve seen you yet, and take off at a run, dragging Julian behind you. You need a bar or an alleyway- something inconspicuous and so public it’s private. You zigzag through the streets, scanning for anywhere that could be dark or filled with people, until Julian slows to a stop in front of a wooden building. The sign over the open doors reads “PORT OF TREMAIRE PUBLIC BATH HOUSE”. You yank Julian down by the ear to keep running, but he stands firm.

“A _Bath House_?” You hiss. “Because getting arrested _naked_ is so much better than doing it clothed!” You release him in a huff, but he just smiles mischievously at you.

“I’ve found that most things in life are more fun naked. Except maybe cooking with hot oils.” He says, and saunters inside. You can’t just leave him, nor do you want to, you admit to yourself begrudgingly.

You follow him into the surprisingly quiet building. There are two hallways towards the back of the room: one reads ‘public’ and the other reads ‘private’. Julian pulls out a doubloon and lays it on the counter in front of a wrinkled old man.

“Dear proprietor, what might it run me to rent a private room, absolutely no disturbances, for say, two hours?” He pulls you flush to his side. For a moment you concede that a private room might be a decent hiding spot until you realizing the implication he’s making and feel your face get horrendously red. Just tell _everyone_ in the world we’re _fucking_ why don’t you. The old man ignores your shame, but snatches the gold off the counter and gives Julian searching look while he bites down on the coin. Then his face breaks into a wide smile, missing several teeth.

“Throw in one more of those for ol’ Pappy and you can make it three!” He says with a wink.

You pull a second coin from your pouch and slap it into the man’s hand.

“We were _never_ here.” You nearly draw your dagger on him to further your point, but Julian grabs your arm and smiles gratefully. The old man chuckles to himself, and produces two towels, robes, and a key.

 

Julian seems almost giddy with pride as you remain red all the way to the room. It’s a relatively plain wooden bath: the pool has a step running all the way around it for sitting, and in the middle is a small raised island where a fire heats stones to add to the water and thus produce steam. There are hooks on the walls for hanging clothes and a hamper for used towels. Once the door finally locks behind you, you let out a breath and wipe your brow, already beginning to sweat a bit. Julian sheds his outer layers, and then comes over to help you remove your new jacket. You almost elbow him away, but the wheels in your head begin to turn as you fully process that’s he’s given you the very opportunity you were hoping for. As you hang your jacket up, you feel Julian’s arms snake around your waist. He presses his cheek to yours and sighs happily. You shrug him off, still playing at being mad, but now that you’re in a windowless room with someone you’ve very honestly wanted more alone time with, you’re feeling a lot… better.

“Still _steamed_ about my choice of hiding spot?” He says, one brow arching high. You can see the heat of the room is starting to make him sweat too. His loose fitting shirt is already sticking to his lithe frame.

“Someone who didn’t know you so well might think you had an ulterior motive dragging me here.” You smile, and reach out to pull him none too gently down by the collar. He pressed your hands to the dip of his throat and holds them there.

“Who, me? Perish the thought. Really- seeing you with less clothes on is the _last_ thing on my mind.” He says and releases your hands to allow you to pull him roughly to your lips. He hums eagerly and slides his arms between your chests so he can grasp the top button of your shirt.

“If you ruin any more of my clothes I’m going to take all of yours and parade you naked around the city.” You say, and grip one hand around his throat. He bites his lip, and nearly chokes himself leaning into you.

“Can always buy more shirts.” He says and manages to undo the top button before you step back out of reach and look him up and down, appraising. He’s being playful, bratty even, and he must know you won’t let that stand. It’s a careful line he’s chosen to walk, but you elect to let him figure that out for himself. Three hours is a long time.

“Take your shirt off.” You say with a light air of authority. His response is immediate, and he slides out of the garment with only a little struggle. When it’s hung on the wall, you undo another button on your shirt, popping it open dramatically. He watches your fingers work with a desire you haven’t seen this plainly on his face in quite a while. Oh this might turn out to be a good day after all.

“Boots. Off.” You command, and he struggles to quickly release the garters. Eventually he has to sit down to get them off, and you lean over to help him, letting your shirt fall open. His face grows bright red and he swallows hard as you tug the tall boot off of him. His eyes dart back and forth between the boot and every bit of skin he can see. It slides off and you chuck it over your shoulder to land somewhere with a ‘clunk’. You let your lips curl into a smile and begin to crawl over him. His throat bobs again as he watches you approach, and he braces himself on his arms.

“Take my shirt off.” You say, leaning in an inch from his face. The heat in the room has him already breathing harder, and watching the rapid rise and fall of his pale chest is a nice consolation for everything he’s made you put up with today. You can see how he leans a little closer, considering that he might try and kiss you, so you tilt away and catch the smallest whine escape from him. He fumbles to keep his balance while he works at the remaining buttons on your shirt, finally getting it fully open and looking at you with a wonder that there just wasn’t room for last night.

Last night.

You feel a jolt of uncertainty in your chest, remembering the fight, remembering the confrontation with your feelings you’d tried to quell. It must show on your face, because he touches your arm lightly and straightens up to sitting comfortably with you in his lap.

“Emsea? We can slow down if you want to-“ As he speaks, you snap back into the present and rush in to kiss him. It’s not time to worry about that now- you’re here now dammit. How do you know when you’ll have another chance like this? What if the next time you aren’t fast enough to slip away from the law? If he’s surprised at the quick turnaround, he doesn’t let it show and moans against you with a volume you haven’t encountered with him before. Maybe it’s the anonymity you’ve paid for that makes him comfortable being louder? Maybe it’s the speed at which you pulled yourself out of a downward spiral- no, we’re not thinking about that right now. You’ve been trying so, so hard, and so has he. You lick into his mouth and he slides his hands under your shirt to push it down your shoulders. He’s everything you need right now- the long arms around you, the heady noises he makes every time you press against him harder. Speaking of which, you press firmly on his chest and push him back down to the ground, pinning him there chest to chest while you kiss him hard enough to leave a little bruising were it not for that magic mark. He does nothing but encourage this, moaning and occasionally gasping for breath when you bite him. You part eventually, and he’s panting, slick with sweat and steam beneath you. Everything takes a bit more effort in such a hot room. You can feel the frictionless slide of his fingers against your sweaty back.

“Please, more,” He says between heavy breaths while he traces figures on your skin. “Just tell me what to do.” He cranes his chin to the side, desperate to get his point across without saying exactly what he’s offering. A drop of water runs down his neck towards his collarbone, and the view makes you want to wreck him something fierce. You make a point to slowly lick up his neck before giving in. You press a gentle kiss first under his jaw, and then he cries out in sweet pained joy as you bite down hard on his soft, warm neck. You dig your canines into him and feel his hips jolt under you. You bend his arm back against the ground to hold him steady; you pinch his skin between your teeth until he’s squirming under you. You snicker against him and look up to his flushed, reverent face. He’s always been beautiful, but nothing compares to when he looks like this. You nuzzle the spots where the bruises on his throat are already fading, and kiss him sweetly before sitting up to survey his current state.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that he’s well on the way to boner town, but you’re not sure that's what you want to focus on right now. Three hours _is_ a long time, and there are other ways of enjoying a man than just going whole hog. You start to unbuckle your pants and his eye goes wide. On that note you snatch the eye-patch from his head and toss it where the rest of the discarded clothes lie. You want to see those lovely eyes. You’ve _earned_ them. You swing off of him to get your pants off fully (hold applause for gratuitous, unsexy, kicking and wigglins), but before he has a chance to take in the view, you slip into the water and submerge yourself up to the chin. This is a horrible mistake, and you quickly remedy this to being only up to your waist and throw your arms wide.

 

 

 

 

“OHMYGODS IT’S HOT!”

You clamber to the side of the pool where you can crouch on the step and further remove yourself from the VERY HOT water. Julian sputters, and then rolls onto his side, clutching his ribs with laughter. You smile, panting from the awful heat. You’re unable to help enjoying the tingling feeling that blooms in your chest, hearing him make that wonderful, happy sound.

“Shut up!” You laugh, the epitome of dominance and control. “Get your pants off and get in this _boiling_ water!” You order. He eventually calms down enough to obey, but has the gall to turn way from you when his trousers drop, naughty thing. He sinks into the pool fully, going as far as to dunk his head underwater and slick his curls back. You’re not used to seeing the red eye fully exposed yet, but it draws you in like a precious gem. Julian laughs at you from your crouched, huddled, protective position, and you stick your tongue out at him like the little magical gremlin you are.

“Darling, we may need to work on your tolerance for heat.” He wades over to you and offers his open arms as an invitation back into the deeper water. You cautiously take his hand and unfurl yourself again, heat re-aggravating the parts of your body you had sought to protect.

You scrunch up your face and try and think about cold things. You concentrate on the gold you found. You think about is how nice it felt to run your fingers through those cold, wet coins just the other day. You try and imagine think the sensation of diving into a pool of _nice, cool, gold_ instead of _stupid, hot, water_. Julian flinches sharply.

The water immediately around you has become startlingly frigid, and Julian drops your hand to stumble to the other side of the pool. He looks over at you, pale faced, and you look down at the water, half expecting to see a sheet of ice growing out of you. It’s only water.

“…Did you do that??” He stutters. You swish the water around and feel it already growing tepid as it mixes in the pool. The guilt hits you and you feel all the colder having frightened him.

“I-I think so? I didn’t mean to, I just needed it to be colder.” You start to wade across the pool. “I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t do it on purpose- I wanted to get closer to you.” You stop halfway across, giving him room to make the final decision. Your heart beats in your ears at the possibility you’ve fucked up, _yet again_. Julian hesitates. Then, he shifts around in a little circle, takes a deep breath, dunks himself under the water, and then comes to meet you by the heated island, throwing his chest out and pulling you into his arms.

“Frightened? Me? Of a little uncontrollable magical misfire that’s beyond both science and reason?” He winks roguishly at you, but there’s a light tremor in his limbs, despite the warm water. You put your arms around him and nudge his legs with yours. He watches you curiously, not quite catching what you’re putting down. It takes a bit of convincing and a stern look, but you maneuver his feet off the ground so you can cradle him adrift in the water. His face turns a whole new shade of red, and you can feel every bit of tension in him.

“I’ll learn to control it better- I swear.” You kiss him on the cheek and just hold him for a moment, praying this is comforting and not more stressful, until you feel him finally relax. He leans up to kiss you with a small smile. Gods he’s cute, floating in your arms, pliable and happy.

You lean in to kiss him again, and slowly walk him over to the side of the pool to set him down. You stroke through his wet hair, spreading his legs to stand between them, and run your hands over his shoulder and down his chest. He hums happily at the attention, and blessedly keeps kissing you. You dip one hand further down and take a chance to rub the delicate skin just in the bend of his hip. His breath hitches at the sensation, and you kiss along his cheek before you continue to draw your fingers down the seam of his body. You’re not sure if the mood got ruined or not, but he encourages you on by bringing his arms up behind your shoulders to pull you closer. You pause to kiss him a little longer and he makes those sweet needy sounds again. When you continue your exploration, he shifts to sit on one knee to give you better access.

“You’re doing so well, but there’s something more I want to do for you.” You whisper to him, and ghost your finger above a very intimate place. He shivers and hugs you closer, pressing his forehead against your jaw, panting, burying his face.

“You want to-ah. What we had discussed earlier?” He trembles slightly, trying to steady his breath.

“Have you done this before?” You say quietly. “You know what it feels like inside?” Agreeing in the morning is one thing, if he doesn’t want this right now, that’s fine too. But he whines a little and nods when you mention _inside_ , and shifts under the water a bit, trying to irk out where your hand is. You distract him with more kisses along his ear and jaw, until he lifts his chin to reciprocate. As soon as he’s focused on what you’re doing with your mouth, you can be more sure he’ll stay relaxed enough down at the other end. You find your target, and meet little resistance as you press inside.

 

His reaction is immediate-of course it is- he shudders and buries his face in the crook of your neck again, and you trail your free hand along his spine as he shifts his hips, struggles against his breathing, and you feel a moan vibrate out from low in his throat _._ It’s so hard to be careful. Being careful mean considering consequences, considering next times- and that’s not to say that’s a bad thing to do, but it certainly takes a certain amount of willpower flexing to not just go for it and hope he likes _that much_ pain. You’re barely inside him as is, and you feel your hand being pressed downwards so he can take more of you. You hold him up with your other arm and he whines at your non-compliance.

“Ilya?” You murmur against him, but he seems like he’s a world apart. “Ilya don’t rush- trust me. You know I’ll take care you.” He tilts his head sideways to look at you- his pupils are blown wider than you’ve ever seen, and damn if that isn’t a look you want him to give you every time you’re fucking him for the rest of your life. You press around in a few different directions, deeper, gauging his responses, nudging your knee forwards to press against his cock. His eyes slide shut and you feel a twitch in his abs when he tries to hurry you along.

“Please faster, I- I like it better a bit faster.”

Well, if that’s how he’s _sure_ wants to play. You nose against his face and his eyes flutter open again.

“Greedy boy.” You kiss him, pushing your tongue in and shoving him into the side of the bath. He keens and his breath stutters as you mirror what you’re doing to his mouth by adding a second finger to his ass. He actually cries out a little and you freeze to give him a moment to adjust, but he shakes his head and looks at you, desperate.

“Please keep going. Please, please stay.” He stutters out, and you’re stunned at the effect it has on you. You feel a pulse in your own nethers, and when he moves his hips you curl your fingers and boy howdy that was a wanton moan if you’ve ever heard one.

“It’s so good. It’s so, so good. Please, more, please harder.” He’s pressing up against you now, seeking any friction or pressure inside and out; the only thing keeping him contained is the positioning needed to get this most desirable angle. You let out a shaky breath and curl your fingers again. His hips cant against you and your mind wanders to how good he would feel inside you right now. How fast and hard you could go without risking hurting him. But he’s enjoying this so much, it would be cruel to stop now.

“Pleasepleaseplease don’t stop. Ohhhh it’s so good.” He pushes down against you again, and you give him another stroke.

“Hang on.” You say, and before he can protest, you slip your hand free and hoist him up onto the main floor. He’s startled-for sure, but you’re quick to push him back further so you can press one of his legs back to his chest and resituate yourself to lean over him and finally be kissing and biting him again. His arms hold you there against him, desperate for some sort of purchase or stability, but he’s reduced to trembling anyway when you push your way back inside. For a moment, you worry you’ve actually gotten overzealous and hurt him more than he wanted, but he stutters a whine deep in his chest one arm falls away to try and cover his face.

“I’m so close. Darling I’m so cl-“ His breath catches when you curl inside him again. “Ohhhhh you’re so wonderful, so wonderful to me, EMsea, I’m so close, please can I-“

“Ilya.” You can feel it now, you think. You press against it and rub it over and over, and feel his abs tense and spasm under you.

“Of course you can darling, of course you can, but I need you to look at me. Let me see your face when you cum, let me see your beautiful eyes.” You curl and stroke in that one spot, and as his chest heaves. You pull his arm from his face as he lets himself get tighter. And tighter, and tighter until he’s shuddering as his cock twitches between you. His eyes flutter open and he looks at you, reaches for you, holds your foreheads together, trying so hard to be good and not just get lost in the pleasure. You kiss him- you just have to kiss him. He’s so beautiful and sexy and clever and generous. You’re surprisingly close yourself- just feeling, listening, _watching_ him. You shift him slightly so you can rub against he back of his thigh, and with him panting breathily beneath you- it won’t take long. You rock against him, feeling his body still occasionally twitch around you from everything you’ve made him experience. He’s still looking at you, still trying to be so good. You kiss him again and keep rocking, rubbing, moaning into him, keep putting pressure where you need it, wanting him to know you’ve gotten there- that _he_ got you there.

You kiss him slowly, over and over, but he’s in such a state it’s all he can do to just breath.

Eventually, you pull your fingers out and let his leg back down to what you’re sure is a more comfortable position. You curl up on top of him and let your weight press down on him fully. You listen to his heart gradually calm down and his arms come to your back and hold you there lazily. Your wrist aches a bit from the effort, but it was so worth it. He rumbles in his throat and gives a languid stretch underneath you.

“I suppose we’ll have to have another bath now.” He chuckles and skims his fingers over your skin, tickling pleasantly.

“Three hours is a long time.” You mumble, fully intending to devote some of that time to sleeping.

 

 

 

You’re not sure how long you were asleep on top of him, if it was a minute or an hour, but when you wake up, Julian is obviously tense. Your heart beats a little faster as you try to ask if something’s wrong, but he shushes you and points to the door, craning his head to look in that direction. You listen carefully. If you really focus, you think you can hear… borks?

There’s a commotion outside. You look at each other, then scramble over to your clothes. You hear things toppling over down the hall, and the familiar bORKs getting closer and closer. You throw your clothes on with some difficulty, and listen at the door as the bORKs get louder.

“ _Here?”_

_Here! What’s happened?_

_“Guards! Captain wants shove off now!”_ You turn to face Julian, who is half way back to having one boot on.

“The guards found the ship- we need to go, now.” You grab Julian’s coat and throw it over your shoulder, as well as his other boot. He gives up on the one he had made some headway on and follows your lead, gathering the remaining clothes. You open the door a crack and Saoirse bursts in, whining.

“Is the front exit safe? How many guards are there?” You ask, but Saoirse waddles away from the door and slips into the pool.

“Saoirse, now isn’t the time!” You say, shutting the door behind you once again. You swear you heard someone else coming this way. You hope you’re wrong. You lock the door again to be careful.

_“Go now! Like before! Stronger together!”_

_Can we get back to the ship from here?_

_“Guards everywhere! Have to try.”_

You nod and look at Julian, he looks frazzled, but at least he managed to get slightly more dressed. He won’t like this plan, not one bit, but maybe there’s another way to approach it without making him think about the fact you’re going to try magic. You steel your nerves, stride over to him, and take his hand.

“Do you trust me?” You look at him dead on. He looks from you, to Saoirse, to the door, which is muffling the sound of heavy footsteps down the hall. He swears, squeezes your hand and nods.

“I trust you.”

You hop back into the pool and help him in as well. There’s a horrible banging at the door and Julian grimaces.

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” He grips your hand tighter. You let your eyes close and focus on the ship and the water around it. The docks. The view of the Port as you pulled in. You feel Saoirse bump up against you and your body tingles with magic, from them, from Julian. You let it flow into the water all around, and just as the door groans and begins to splinter, the ground is gone from beneath you, and all three of you are swallowed up by water and darkness.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So real talk time: there MIGHT be a break in updates for just a few weeks while i shift into MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE at my real life job. 
> 
> MAYBE. Ask of me no promises, and I will tell you no intentional lies. This fic is remaining a very fun thing for me to write and work on, so I'm maintaining a guarded optimism.
> 
> The comments, kudos, and bookmarks are as always, very appreciated and warmly regarded. I get a real kick out of all your reactions to this pirate boner story. You kids who are reading this at some ungodly hour of the morning- I salute you, also please love yourself.
> 
> <3


	7. Water, Water Everywhere- do not attempt to breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apprentice and Julian get out of some hot water, the Apprentice gets some cold water into them.
> 
> Everyone learns an important lesson about being respectful of shared spaces.

There is no purchase on anything, only the push and pull of water on your clothes. You open your eyes and instantly regret it. Saltwater- but at least that means it worked. There’s still a hand in yours, holding tight, and a something slippery brushes against you every so often. It’s just creepy enough to lend a bit of panic to your movements.

_Soaisre?? Is that you?_

_“Here! Hold on!”_

You wrap your arm around their almost perfectly spherical bulk, still holding fast onto Julian’s hand. Saoirse gives a full bodied kick and their head knocks backward into your chest- you nearly drop Julian whilst simultaneously inhaling a mouthful of water. Luckily you’re a seasoned sailor and know a thing or two about the ocean- it isn't good for breathing. The rush of the assent makes your head pound and you feel the bundle of hastily grabbed clothes on your shoulder suddenly vanish as you’re towed along. At least you’ve got the important things.

Breaking the surface brings on mixed emotions- on the one hand, you did manage to teleport near the ship, and that’s something to be proud of. On the other hand, with a quick glance you can see the ship is now coming _right at you_ , and that’s something to be terrified of. On a third bonus hand, you’re gagging up seawater and basically useless outside of doing some flailing about. Julian hugs you to Saoirse as they try to tow everyone out of harm’s way, but it’s to little avail. Even the saltiest of seadogs is no match for the waves churned up by a fleeing pirate ship.

Back under the briny depths you tumble, and this time you find yourself completely alone. Water rushes up your nose as you’re tossed about by the ocean- Julian’s gone. And you’re drowning.

Fighting your way to the surface seems like the best solution, but when you get there all attempts to breathe are thwarted by your body’s need to be purged of seawater. Arms push up under you and you’re boosted high enough out of the water to start making progress on said purge.

“Got you!” Julian gasps into your ear. You cough violently until the majority of what you inhaled has been dribbled back out. A moment later, a dark whiskered face pops up from the choppy water and blows mist from their snoot.

“Well, that’s all accounted for.” Julian grimaces. He’s doing a good job of treading water to keep both of you from going under again, but you’re not sure how long he’ll be able to keep it up. You glance around. You’re just outside the bay Port Tremaire is located on, and see a couple of Brievs schooners making an attempt at pursuing the ship. No help to be found there. You look further up the rocky coastline and spot a tiny sailboat minding its own business- a tiny sailboat that you know. You point out the sloop.

“Saoirse, tell them where we are…” You wheeze out, and Julian attempts to heave you higher out of the surf, nearly pushing himself under in the process. Saoirse whuffs and disappears back under the water. In the meantime, you attempt to push free of Julian’s grasp to give him some relief, but he glares and refuses to let go. You roll your eyes and settle for paddling a bit with your arms. The little boat gets steadily closer, carefully not rushing as to not alert any other patrolling vessels.

“Are you okay?” You ask Julian once you’ve gotten your breath.

“Just peachy.” He says through gritted teeth. You tread water silently as the sloop makes its slow approach. You had figured Julian might not be trilled about your escape method- but even if he's miffed, at least you're both still free.

~~~

 

It’s a struggle to get the two of you up on the deck, but through the power of teamwork, it’s managed. The main ship continued onwards, unable to risk turning back with the local law in hot pursuit, but luckily Navigator Kaya and one other of the crew were ordered to hold back a little, just in case you and Julian showed. It takes a while for the little ship to make up the distance; which gives you plenty of time to have lengthy coughing fits that seem to affect Julian worse than they do you. When they finally taper off, you starfish on the deck, drying out in the ebbing afternoon sun. Julian alternates between pacing and double-checking that you’re still breathing. It’s a little annoying, but you suppose you can’t blame him.

He’s been quiet for a while, and you flop your head sidelong to look at him. His white shirt is plastered to his body like wet parchment. You gasp loudly, which makes him startle so badly he nearly falls overboard.

“… I lost your coat. And your boot.” You say glumly. “It must’ve fallen off in the water.”

You plop your head back down and stare at the sky, frowning. You hear Julian sigh heavily and he joins you on the deck, sitting behind you so your head can rest in his lap. He places a hand over your chest and you breath deeply, having a sense of this hopefully temporary routine by now.

“…For a second there, I thought you were choking again.” He says, sounding just exhausted enough to make you a little concerned. You feel pretty much fine now- just a little burning in the chest- but maybe he doesn’t. You reach upwards toward his face, and he glances down at you with a tired smile, pressing his cheek into your hand. You lean upwards a little.

“Intending to prove how alive you are? We’re not alone you know, someone might see.” He says. You stare at him and wait. A bit of water trickles from your ear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You say, and his brave face drops. He looks away from you.

“Perfectly fine.” He says, “Just tired.”

You decide to go with a surefire method for getting stubborn boys to talk. You flip over, lift up his shirt, take a deep breath….. and blow a massive raspberry into him.

“BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRTPTHTPHTHTPHTPTHTPH!”

He jolts in surprise before snorting with laughter. You do it a few more times until he’s begging you to stop, and being a merciful sort, you do. Once he calms down, you drag yourself up next to him and kiss his cheek playfully until he pushes you off, smiling. You lie in each other's arms, being warmed by the sun. You still look expectantly at him, until he finally gives in.

“I… just keep thinking badly that could have gone.” He manages. “What if we hadn’t landed that close to the ship? What if Saoirse hadn’t gotten us out of the way in time?” He pauses, chasing his own questions, and you give him room to. “What if I hadn’t been there when you were in trouble?”

“That’s a lot of ‘what ifs’.” You say, though you can’t say he’s wrong, and that makes you a little uncomfortable. You had no idea where he or Saoirse were at one point. Things _could_ have gone a lot worse.

“I feel like I regret trusting you then. Like I should have tried to stop you.” He gives your arm a squeeze, and you fidget with your feet. His words sting a little.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t think you could have stopped me.” You say, and he lets out a dry laugh. You hug him a little tighter. It’s true, you think. If he had hesitated, you would have just pulled him into the bath, like it or not. It was the safest way to escape you could think of, so you went for it. If you had waited for another solution, you both might be alone and in chains. You’re glad he trusted you- it made everything a lot easier.

“Do you trust me?” You ask, recalling your words from mere hours ago. He smiles at you.

“I certainly want to.” He says, but he still seems unsure. You ponder the past for a moment, and try to think of other times Julian’s reacted negatively to something.

“Was it the magic? Do you think you’d feel bad if I had bashed down a wall for us to escape instead?”

He drums his fingers on your arm as he thinks. Saoirse leaps in and out of the water, occasionally skidding across the deck of the boat. No matter the situation, there is always time for mad stunts.

“…Probably not.” He finally says.

“I think you do trust me.” You say. “You don’t trust magic.” He nods and sighs, seeming to agree.

“That’s a good way to put it. Makes me wish for the good ol’ days of three weeks ago, when you were just an attractive, non-magical stranger who’s bed I kept falling into.” He wags a brow at you and you can’t help but laugh. Joking about it is at least better than staying silent.

“So? Are we one day into this and you’ve found a deal breaker?” You ask, just a little bit of anxiety creeping in the back of your mind.

“Of course not!” He’s quick to reply and it soothes you like a balm. “I just… it’s going to take me a little while. Magic and I… have a bit of a history.” He blushes a little. You narrow your eyes.

“A history with magic or a history with someone who used magic?” You press. He blushes and looks away. You swiftly pin him to the deck and get up in his face.

“Someday I’m going to tie you down and make you tell me where to find this ex of yours, so I can give them a piece of my mind.” You say. He gives you a smirk.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?”

“YOU’RE NOT ALONE YOU KNOW!” You hear from the top of the boat. You both glance up to see Kaya and a rather red-faced swabbie waving sheepishly. Whoopsie.

You glance back down to Julian, smiling.

“It’s a promise, but I guess it’ll have to wait.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back. Back again.


	8. isn't a 'salty seadog' just a seal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC finally learns how to do magic. A backstory is hinted at. Things don't go as planned, and that's okay.

 

In the morning, the galley is cramped, the rations are meager, but the company is good. Julian sits at your right, gesturing enthusiastically as he retells how you escaped from the baths only to immediately contend with the oncoming ship. He takes some creative liberties in regards to the _number_ of ships you dodged, but the crew eats it up. You lean back to glance at the doorway, but it remains empty. Last night, after the Captain was done swatting you on the head with her brewin' spoon for wasting a week-long journey, the Navigator requested a private meeting with the her, and you haven’t seen either of them since. You’re curious where you'll be heading next. There couldn’t have been much talk of a destination in the dash out of Port Tremaire, and the breakfast of hard tack and cold stew tells you there wasn’t any time to restock while you were in Brievs. The Captain always plans for emergencies, but she’s going to want to restock as soon as possible. A swabbie pulls you from your pondering with a tap on your shoulder.They lean in close.

“Did the Doctor _really_  give you mouth-to-mouth _while_ riding on the back of a friendly killer whale?”

You blink.

“Did he _what?_ ” You say a little too loudly. This exchange happens during one of those quiet moments that happen in natural conversation, so of course everyone stops talking to look at you. It is also the exact moment the Captain and the Navigator appear in the doorway carrying loads of books and maps. The Captain looks from your red face to the silent crew.

“I don’t want to know.” She says, looking unimpressed. Mazelinka and Kaya lay their loads onto the long table, making everyone pull their bowels to the side. The Captain draws everyone’s attention.

“Now, as you all know our time in Breivs was cut short,” She allows a pregnant pause, just long enough for you and Julian to squirm a little. “so we’re in dire need of some supplies. We’ll be heading to the Floating Market for some trade and maybe to pick up a new contract.”

“The Market is currently outside of Prakra," Kaya chimes in, "so it’ll be roughly three days before we arrive.”  Outside of Prakra is good, you think- you’re not terribly keen to actually make port there. The Floating Market is a fantastic hub- it travels, so there’s always interesting things to buy from around the world. Another upside is if they can’t legally sell you something where they are, you can always arrange to meet up with the seller further out to sea. This turns out to be an excellent legal loophole for conducting ‘pirate friendly’ business.

“As for this week’s assignments…” The Captain defers to you and you quickly jump up to show you still have authority on the ship. It’s mostly the same jobs week after week, but with supplies low you set a few people on fishing. The Captain nods her approval and is about to dismiss everyone when she stops to point at you.

“Before I forget, First Mate, you’ll be spending the majority of this journey on the sloop.” She pushes the pile of books in your direction, which you gather up with more than a little confusion on your face. The Captain elaborates with a bit of a judgey frown. “ _Some_ of us were productive in procuring magical wisdom during our brief stay in Brievs, so you’ll be home schooling for a few days.”

“Y-yes Captain.” You say a little sheepishly. You glance over to Julian, who’s already craning his neck to read over the spines of the books. A smile comes to your face at his inquisition. It doesn’t escape you that staying on the sloop means a private cabin...

“And of course we wouldn’t want your studies to be disturbed,” The Captain adds. She's drawn out her brewin' spoon and slaps it threateningly in her hand. “so there will be no visitors. Kaya will sail with you, so no need to worry about any... distractions.” The Captain meets your dropped jaw with a gleeful smile. Touche, Captain. Touche.

“Captain, if I might be so bold, the First Mate isn’t the most studious of sorts, and it might do them well to have a tutor-“ Julian offers before you can stop him.

“Can it Ilya.” The Captain shoots him down with a look. Julian looks a little downtrod, but you place your hand on his under the table and give it a squeeze.You appreciate his efforts, even if they were in vain.

 Three days isn’t so long, and from what little you know of committed relationships, lovers go without seeing each other all the time. Time apart always ends with a dramatic reunion full of ‘oh how I missed yous’ and ‘never leave me agains’. You’re not super keen on being tied down, but… there are other aspects of tying down and coming together after being apart that are appealing. This will be fine, you assure yourself(despite the slight tingle of fear in the back of your mind). In three days, he’ll still be the same person, and so will you.

~~~~~

 

The following morning Julian waves pitifully from the railing of the ship and you wave pitifully back from the sloop. He dodges sideways as Saoirse leaps past him and dives into the water. They soon re-emerge in a graceful arc, transitioning from the water into the air, their form silhouetted against the sun. Their bORking cuts through your sour mood for a moment as they stick the landing on the deck beside you. You applaud politely. (Judges score: 10, 10, 8.5*) 

As the boats regain speed, you plop down and lay out the various tomes Mazalinka gathered. Kaya gives an encouraging smile from the mainsail.

“Maybe there’s a spell so it won’t feel like it takes that long?” She says. You look back at her with all the apathy of a teenager sent to their room to do homework. Kaya, bless her, still tries.

“Maybe they’re at least interesting! I’ve never read a book about magic before, maybe you can teach me something!” She grins and grits her teeth as the sloop bounds over waves created in the wake of the main ship. You look longingly at the sail’s rigging, wishing it was you at the helm, then back down at the gratuitous amount of studying that has been tasked to you.

“I’m not much of a book learner.” You pick up a tome bound in red leather. The pages are edged in some sort of gold leafing. “I can’t think of one thing I learned exclusively from a book.” You trail off as the breeze flips through the pages. There are pictures in this book. Pictures that make you blush and slam it shut. You look around, just in case anyone say, and remember there are only two people on this boat. You turn back to the title page. _Sex and Magic: Belarius Oldswoman’s New Evocations of Revelry_.

“Hey,” Kaya says while she pulls a rope taught. “I meant to ask the Captain last night when we settled on heading towards Prakra, but don’t your parents live there-“

“Kaya,” You say with a degree of awe. “this is a book about magic fucking.”

The speed at which she changes topic fills your heart with joy. Good friend. Good, good friend. This is way more interesting than that particular sorry subject she nearly breached.

“It’s WHAT.” She squawks.

“This is some old bat’s kinky sex magic book.” You say, and flip through the book’s chapters: Temperature, Electricity, Bindings, Linked Sensations….

“Is it better to think the Captain knew what that book was, or not?” Kaya chimes in.

You shrug.

“She certainly knows me.” You say. You set the horny book aside and pick up a teal one with clouds and waves detailed into the leather. _Weather Manipulation Through Catalysts_. There’s another focusing on the arcane realms and temporal travel, a collection of firsthand accounts dealing with various Arcana, an introduction to the theory of magic, the advanced sequel, and a dictionary of herbs and components.

“Did you know…” You flip through the dictionary. “sand is an ingredient for a lot of potions. The Captain has been feeding us sand. And apparently you can pee on some toads to test for pregnancy.”

“Gross. Poor toads.” Kaya twists up her face and braces against a spray of seawater. Saoirse waddles over to look over the books, and then back to you. You are not sure if seals can read.

“ _Helpful?”_

_I guess?_

You flip through each book just in case there’s anything else eye-catching, until you settle on the introduction to magic. However, it’s horrendously dull. You turn to the weather book and learn about connecting your personal magic to the magic of the elements. The theory is complicated, but there is a helpful allegory about thinking of the body as a valve that directs the flow of energy from various sources. You just need to open up and let it flow through you.

Water comes deceptively easily. You’re quickly pulling little bloops out of the ocean and tossing them in the air for Saorise to try and catch. When that gets boring, you try parting the water in front of the boat to give you guys a speed boost, but this just makes the bow dip so steeply that Kaya screeches at you. Maybe you’ll have more luck working from behind?

“What if I made a big gust of wind?” You ask, focusing on the breeze that’s already present, letting it caress you and gently flutter your clothing. Kaya’s mouth forms a thin line as she ponders.

“I mean it could work, but I’m also really into the idea of not capsizing?” She keeps her eyes trained forwards. “Maybe a moderate gust of wind to start and we’ll see how that goes?” You nod. It’s usually a good idea to trust the Navigator when it comes to sailing. Wind turns out to be much harder to get a knack for than water, so instead of channeling it, you get frustrated and try pushing it. Nothing- but that doesn’t stop you. You spend about 15minutes punching the air until you’re able to forcefully move it in small, roughly fart-sized puffs. This takes more out of you than you expected, and by the time you think you’ve got the hang of it, your arms feel like you’ve been moving heavy cargo for hours.

Not one to back down when the going gets good, you take up a stance behind the sail, and punch out with both fists. Cold sweat drips down your back, and the sail fills with a stiff breeze for a moment and the whole boat rockets forward a whole 6 meters.

Kaya laughs and nods approvingly.

“Not bad! Think you could make it a continuous- hey are you okay?” She asks, and you put a hand to your head as your vision blurs. You hear her bound over feel her hands steadying you.  
“Emsea, I’m no expert, but I think you should go lie down, maybe eat something.” She says, glancing back and forth between you and her abandoned post. You nod slowly, fatigue creeping through your limbs, and gather a few of the books before retreating into the cabin. Saoirse whines and waddles next to you as a spotter, just in case.

You’re pleased to see a doublewide bed in the cabin area, as well as a small box of salted meat, LOTS of hard tack,a jug of fresh water, and even a little fruit. You drop the books and then yourself onto the bed and peel an orange. Eating definitely helps, and you’re pretty sure you’re also preventing some common sailor’s disease Julian told you about. You smile, getting a little distracted thinking about all the things you’ll get to do when you see him again. Where to do it is a bit of a question. There are a few nooks and crannies throughout the ship that have worked in the past for brief encounters, but you’re thinking more along the lines of someplace that could offer privacy for say, an hour to all night. Your thoughts are just about to push studying completely from your brain when Saoirse noses open the introductory book. It lands on a chapter about how important it is for new magicians to know their limits and pace themselves with lots of rest and breaks between magic sessions. You roll your eyes at your seal, who pushes the book closer to you. Everyone’s a critic.

Most of the book’s advice for fatigue is to take it slow and defer to a more advanced magician for advice on your limits. Having no advanced magician to turn to, you take a peek at what the advanced book as to say about it. The second book re-iterates the important of knowing your limits, stating that just in case a spell goes wrong, the responsible magician must always plan ahead so they may remedy the situation without putting themselves at further risk. Like, say if a teleportation spell went awry and made people appear deep underwater instead of at the surface- you know, where all the air is. It also mentions how some magicians can draw additional stamina by using familiars, objects imbued with magic, or other intelligent beings. It strikes a chord with how your magic seems bolstered by Saoirse, the Captain, and even Julian on occasions. The chapter ends on encouraging further research into specific Arcana should the magician desire a patron, so you decide that’s what you’ll look into next.

You’re looking for the book on individual Arcana when you realize the bed has gone from underneath you, and you’re floating on a vast expanse of nothing. There’s the familiar feeling of the push and pull of water on your limbs. Staring out into the darkness, you watch stars blink into existence, and in the distance you see a familiar sight. A dream.

An Island.

A tumbleweed bounds past you- you don’t think to question it. Instead you chase after it, following closer and closer. When you grasp the dry thorns, your feet hit soft sand, and the jungle looms along the shoreline. You look back from where you came, and there's just a desert of stars and space. No water, so shimmering starlight laps at the sand. Footprints that cannot be yours lead directly from the shore to you, and when you look down and wiggle your toes, you notice the strange prints continue on without you.

Your body shivers, but you feel no ill intention, only an insatiable need to wander- a curiosity and naiveté about where uncharted paths may lead. You follow the prints, stride for stride, stepping half in, half out of them until you arrive at the forest’s edge. Here the leaf litter has been trampled into a path you’ve taken before, and you take a further step to follow it.

 

With a snort you lift your head and wipe some drool from your face. All around you the books lie scattered on the bed. You must have fallen asleep, but at least you think you had good dreams? Saoisre snores softly beside you, and you glance out the small window in the door to see the mango colored sky. You work your way through the book on the Arcana, hoping to see or read something that will remind you of your dream. You get stuck on the same page, reading it four times, but no information going in.

 

You spend the following morning trying other ways of manipulating the wind. When nothing from the elemental book turns out to be of any help, you decide to take a chance on the fuckin’ book having something related to add. It doesn’t, but you do still learn some things and temperature decide to work on conjuring the cold next. Once you’ve given yourself your first taste of frostbite, you decide perhaps the temperature play will have to wait for a different reunion.

You intend to spend the third day creating and extinguishing flames, but it comes as easily as water, so you move on to weaving nets and ropes of energy. You mostly practice tying your own feet together and throwing a net over Saoirse, who is un-amused. At one point you drag the net behind the boat and catch a jellyfish: this turns out to be a good motivator to learn how to dispel a magic net.

The rest of the day seems to crawl by and you fidget about the boat. You try and read about temporal travel, but you keep getting spooked off of it thinking about how weak it made you both times you attempted it. You sit watching the sunset, drumming idly on Saoirse’s belly. The thought of seeing Julian so shortly makes you smile despite yourself.

You’re not used to looking forward to seeing people- most of the important people in your life are either always around or good as gone. The closest you’ve had to something like this was that tavern girl in Prakra, and those reunions were always…. Interesting. Not very personal, just nice enough. This is the first time someone’s stuck around just because you’re you. Heck, even your parents didn’t put any effort in staying in touch when you left, not that you gave them a forwarding address. How could you? Would that address just be: The Ocean?

You find yourself wondering if ... they're okay. It’s been…twelve years? Prakra was the best place you could have sent them, but time is it’s own factor. Things change even when politics don’t. Look at you- you’re in the relationship you never thought you’d have. Who’s to say they haven’t become people you wouldn’t even recognize?

You’re pulled from your musings as the anchor from the ship plops into the water and Kaya brings the sloop around for the gangplank to be lowered. You can’t help but hug Saoirse a little too tightly. You get to see him soon. You get to see him very soon.

 

~~

Your return is a bit of an event: the Captain requests a demonstration of what you’ve learned and this goes off without a hitch, but it does leave you a good bit more tired than you were hoping to be. Julian watches the exhibition with the crew, looking impressed although a little concerned when you conjure the fire and water. When the Captain is satisfied, she dismisses everyone for the night and you quickly(clumsily) stash away your books in the crew’s quarters. There simply isn’t enough time to prepare- you’re sure you stink like Saoirse- maybe you still have some clean clothes??

You nearly crash into someone at the base of the stairs after the quickest of quick-changes, but you catch the sides of the walls just before impact. You slingshot yourself back out of the stairwell and flatten your back against the wall like a swatted fly.

Oh god it’s him. What do you do what do you do what do you do

Julian takes a step out of the stairwell, looking a little surprised, but he gives you an easy smile. You try to look as casual as possible. As though you didn’t just nearly careen into him like you had no sea legs to speak of.

“I was just coming to look for you.” You say. Your stomach feels full of butterflies. No, not butterflies, that’s far too gentle for what you’re experiencing. You are experiencing a belly full of BEES. You hope it doesn’t show, but Julian’s brow makes a slow rise and you think it does. Worse, he finds it _charming._

“It would seem you’ve found me.” He says, and takes your hand to press a kiss to the palm. Oh god you are in no condition for this gentlemanly treatment or for him to be the calm one. You were going to be so cool and suave and then you had to waste all your focus and composure on getting kudos from the Captain. You stand without saying anything for a moment, and berate yourself for not having the mental capacity to know what to do. First impressions you’re practiced at- reunions less so.

“What’reyou up to?” You blurt out. _Nailed it._

“Care to find out?” He offers you his arm. You look from his arm to his face. Then his arm. Then back to his face again. He’s being blessedly patient. You stiffly let him lead you towards the passenger cabins, opposite the crew’s quarters. Walking with his familiar stride is a slight comfort, and your anxiety comes down from an 8 to a 6. He stops in front of a door and produces a key. Did Mazelinka give him a _room?_ Perhaps there’s saving this reunion yet.

“Moving up in the world are we?” You say with a little too much gruff inflection.

“Oh yes, and it comes with all the standard amenities: cramped, musty, no natural light- _and_ the bed is too short for me.” He grins as though you’re not acting strangely at all. The door swings open.

It’s a room you’ve seen a few times before, but the shelves have been filled with books and strange jars with bizarre contents. The desk looks to be in the beginning stages of disarray, and the candle on it is nearly burned down to the end of the wick. Julian goes to light it regardless, but you throw your arm forward and snap your fingers before he can even produce the match. He’s stunned for a moment as the candle flickers in front of him and you immediately regret every decision you’ve made in your entire life ever. You try to casually lean against the desk.

“So, uh, the Captain gave you your own quarters?” You stammer and the piece of paper you’re leaning on begins to slide under your weight. Everything is terrible.

“Yes, well, she designated a sick bay that I get to stay in when the bed’s not in use.” He explains, looking a bit frazzled. He clears the loose pages from the table and waits for you to realize you need to move for him to get the last one. You straighten and look around the room for something- ANYTHING- to make small talk about. You note he’s wearing another black coat much like his old one.

“New coat?” You point with a wide, forced grin. Julian slowly looks down at himself and back up to your flushing face. He gives you a curious look.

“Extra coat. Same one, actually. Not the most creative fashion choice, but consistent.” He says.

  


It’s the same coat it’s the same coat HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE IT'S THE SAME COAT- Oh no.

 

He starts laughing heartily.

  


You take a step back, horrified. But it doesn’t stop, which you guess is good if he’s happy?? But you can’t tell what he’s laughing _at_ , and everything is just feeling  _very unfair right now_.

“What’s so funny!?” You snap, curling in on yourself a bit, and he starts to rein himself in. You were so looking foreword to seeing him again, but nothing is going like you thought it would. You don’t know if this is normal for relationships or not, but you do know you’re miserable and exhausted and he’s laughing of all things. He straightens up, smiling gently. It helps. Sort of.

“Nothing at all my dear- you really aren’t much for small talk are you?” He reaches out to take one of your fists and carefully steps around you to sit on the bed. He takes your other tightly balled hand and waits for you to decide if you’ll follow him or not, and right now you just don’t know what to do. So you stand there, facing him, but frozen. You pinch your mouth shut and stare at the ground in front of you. He leans forward to enter your eye-line.

“Emsea? Darling it’s okay. I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise.” He says gently, and gives a light pull on your arm before patting the bed next to him. You glance at him, and he looks… genuine. He looks like Julian. And he’s only been acting like Julian. God this whole scenario just feels like it’s all your fault. Your knees bend stiffly and you sit on the bed, at last close to him again. His presence is grounding in a way few things have been for you, and you sigh heavily and lean into him.

He leans over to touch his head to yours and you put your arms around him. This is closer to what you were expecting, even if there are a lot more clothes being worn than you thought there would be. He returns the embrace and you wonder if you should talk about how you’re feeling. You groan and release him to flop over backwards. He chuckles and takes a hold of your hand.

“I missed you a lot.” You mumble from under your arm.

“That, I can relate to. Luckily for us, our most merciful Captain has allowed us to be reunited.” His fingers trail lightly over your skin. It tickles just the right amount to be pleasant.

“I mean I really wanted to see you- I was looking forward to it so much, but now I’m just really tired, and I don’t know what to talk about, and it’s just really…” Your brain works very hard to find the word. “Frustrating.”

Julian nods and shrugs off his jacket to lie down next to you(though the bed is very small and you’re lying sideways, so he’s more just kneeling on the floor and leaning). He seems to ponder something while he traces lines up your arm.

“What were you hoping would happen?” He says. You flush IMPRESSIVELY red despite a third of your face being covered. He grins and that fucking eyebrow goes up and you absolutely REFUSE to tell him what you thought was going to happen now. He pulls himself back onto the bed.

“Was it something _dirty?_ ” He says, and you wonder if there are any memory erasing spells out there and you can just pretend this night never happened. You stand your silence. Deep down you know he’s laying the groundwork to bring things back into the realm of mischief and smooches, but you just don’t have the energy to put into that right now. You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. You mumble into the pillow something that sounds like a very defeated, very melancholy, ‘yes’, followed by lots of groaning. You hear snickering and feel a gentle push that maneuvers you into a position that can only be called ‘little spoon’. This is acceptable, as it requires no active effort from you. You scoot backwards until you’re pressed against him. His breath is soft and warm on your neck.

“It this okay?” He asks. You give a small nod. His arms come around you and the sense of security it gives you allows the pillow on your face to fall away. He leans in and kisses your neck gently, and you’re feeling pretty emotionally raw right now, but his lips are really soft and nice. You squirm closer to him and hold his arms in place around you while he kisses from the side of your neck up to your jaw. You sigh heavily into him. This is MUCH more like it, but you don’t know if you’ll be able to stay awake long enough for his efforts to be worthwhile. Then he bites down softly on your shoulder and it suddenly hits you this what not taking the initiative for once feels like. You tense up beside him and a literal actual moan comes out of your throat when he kisses the same spot before biting down again. The feeling you have after making such a sound is a little uncomfortable, but it that sound did get Julian to hook his leg over your hips. Almost without thinking you flip over and tangle up with him. He leans over you and captures your lips in a heated invitation- it’s almost more than you can give back. You want to the stars and back to be doing this with him, but your body is so heavy that you don’t want to do anything more than you have to. When he draws away from you to check in, you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Julian, I…” You trail off. You don’t want him to be disappointed.

“Want to stop? It’s fine if you do- I know you’ve been working hard. Even if you hadn’t been, it would still be fine.” He says easily. Stupid, wonderful idiot. You’re still mad at yourself and trace you hand up his arm.

“I really do want to keep going, I just don’t think I can do anything more than I’m already doing.” You sigh, but he seems unperturbed. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“I’m certainly not put off by changing things up a bit.” He kisses your cheek and his gaze softens. “Being with you is what makes me happy. I mean, of course I really like the things we’ve done before, but, um. That is to say…” He blushes and you smile, though it doesn’t bring any life back into you. He composes himself and continues. “I’m enjoying this. I’m enjoying you, and being with you.” He kisses you, chaste this time. “I did miss you, you know.”

His kiss could be goodnight, or a lighter step in whatever dance this has become.- he leaves it up to you. Your heart feels entirely too full, like the bees in your gut have migrated upwards, and made a nest so densely packed with honey, all the sappy sweetness is going to gum up the works. You hadn’t known about this. No one talks about the nights like this.

“I missed you so much.” You say, and pull him back down to your lips. He presses his body flush to yours, a comforting weight and closeness. You push further into his mouth and he pushes back into you, whimpering almost too quietly for a tired ear to hear. You tread your fingers through his hair and pull. He whines into the kiss and breathes shakily, but you slow the pace and run your fingers along his scalp. That was about all the energy you had, and the kisses get less coordinated and more sleepy.

You stretch and turn away from him when the yawns begin to hit- he leaves the bed for a moment to take off his and your boots. You shrug off your shirt and toss it across the room before snuggling into the blankets with no regard for how Julian is going to get back into the bed. There is some crawling about and ‘aHEMs’ as he climbs back in beside you, but eventually a compromise is reached where you’re both content. He’s _almost_ too skinny for it to be a viable option, but you elect to use his chest as a pillow rather than the one provided. His arm drifts lazily over your side while you let your eyes slide closed. Eventually his hand comes to rest over your ribs, and his breathing gets much deeper. You take a small amount of pride in somehow still outlasting him, and take your victory in the form of a well earned sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Judge #3 is a seal racist and was banned from judging future competitions. 
> 
> There's a hidden dick joke in this chapter, did YOU find it?
> 
> I'm on so many painkillers right now from getting my wisdom teeth out. Modern Medicine is BUCKWILD
> 
> https://thatkidryder.tumblr.com/
> 
> <3


	9. Bruno Mars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emsea auditions for a role in "Duck Tales". Two idiots go on a shopping spree and get well and truly fucked.
> 
> Pun Counter: 1

The coins glimmer in neat lines, arranged by country of origin: a meager display of coveted wealth spread across the tiny sick bay bed. You and Julian stand beside it, pondering.

Well, he ponders it. You contend with every fiber of your being not to jump onto the treasure and roll around like a cat in the sun. You glance at Julian, whose lips move silently as he counts. You wonder if there’s a section he’s already counted you could get away with messing up. Just as you begin to shift your weight to spring, he nods and turns to you.

“That’s 569 pieces between the two of us, if my conversions across the different currencies are correct.” He says, and you nod quickly, eyes flicking back and forth between the bed and his face. The coins sparkle at you seductively like the little skanks that they are.

“So?” Julian says, crossing his arms. “I’ve never been to this Floating Market before. Is there anything in particular to be on the lookout for?” You try and think of something but the only worthwhile thing you can think of is a way to turn this amount of gold into _more gold_.

“We could look for a money changer, and exchange it all…” You pick out a medium sized coin from Drakr. “for this kind of doubloon.” It has a decent weight in your hand despite being a less valuable piece. Julian frowns.

“Wouldn’t that just give us a lot more to carry? Surely converting it all into Prakra’s local currency would be more efficient?” He offers, missing the point by a long shot.

You lay the coin back down on the bed in its appropriate row, but your hand brushes by a stack that collapses into a small pile, disheveled. Oh geeze you can’t help yourself. You drop down to your knees and scoop big armfuls of coins towards you and they crinkle-tinkle like the sweetest of bells. You bury your face into the cool metal and inhale deeply. The metallic sent lends your mouth to water. You hum happily- but then recognize the threat to your precious beside you. You stop breathing instinctually. Julian must know how dangerous it is to get between a wild pirate and their treasure- he’ll be eaten alive. You gaze up at him, face half camouflaged in coins. Your sea-soned muscles tense, ready to lash out.

Then you feel a light pitter-pat down your back as he begins showering you in the riches. You still from your bristling. One coin even makes it into your collar and you shiver as it finds a path across your skin. The threat is passed, there is no danger here.

“Happy?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow and a smile. “You know between your wit and my dashing good looks, we could probably fill this room top to bottom within a year.” You sigh into the small pile.

“I won’t lie.” You say, and turn your arms over to let a few coins slide off. “There are few things I’d want more than that.” When you stand up, the coin that delved into your shirt makes itself known again. You shake your clothes until it drops to the floor with a ‘tink’. You bend over to retrieve it, but when you stand up you notice Julian’s eyes roaming over your body. Can’t help himself, can he? You wait for him to notice you noticing him, and step close to stand toe to toe with him. He grins down at you and you walk your fingers up his arm to his cheek.

“Are there things you want?” You say wistfully. “Things you want more than most things in the world?” He wraps his arms around you and leans over you in a mock-attempt at a dip.

“Oh you know, the standard fare. Adventure, freedom, romance beyond compare.” He straightens back up. “But I think I’ve already found a few of those things.” He says, and you snake your arms around his neck so he’ll stoop slightly to kiss you. It’s gentle, fleeting even. He pulls away, still just inches from your face.

“Mm. Sweet.” He murmurs.

“Is that a challenge?” You laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

“I mean romance is all well and good-“ He begins, and in a flourish he’s scooped you off your feet and into his arms. It’s always easy to forget he’s stronger than he looks. You lean against him and give the cusp of his jaw a quick peck.

“But I believe adventure was mentioned?” He gives you a roguish look and deposits you onto the bed, which causes the treasure to jump and jingle and sparkle all around you. You grab handfuls of the glittering riches, paying no heed as he climbs on top of you. It’s only when he leans down to pick up where things left off that you flip onto your side and curl protectively around the gold.

“This is mine.” You say, and rake another armful to your chest. “And this.”

“And this?” He says. He darts in, lightning fast, and plants a kiss on your cheek. You gape at him in horror before pulling him down and humming your growing lust into his lips. You pull hard enough that he has to steady himself or fall onto you, but that simply won’t do. You have a claim to stake, after all. You hook a leg up over his back and pull yourself up to him, latching onto his neck giving little tickling nips and kisses until he concedes and flops down onto his side. You pepper his face with kisses.

“Mine.” His nose.

“Mine.” His cheeks. You pause for a moment, glancing back and forth between his face and his neck until he reddens slightly at the way you size up your next target.

“Ah-“

Is all he gets out before you knock him back against the unfortunately close by wall with a thud. He groans at the impact. Encouraged, you bite harder and suck with a ferocity that is sure to hurt, and his fingers dig into your back appreciatively. When you pull back to survey your work, you’re disappointed yet again to see the bruises immediately fade, like they always do. On the upside, he has been pushed to gnawing on his own lip to keep the pain train rolling. You kiss him and take over that most important of duties. His breathing turns into halting gasps, turning to soft moans against you when you bite down harder.

“This is also mine.” You whisper against his lips and give him one last light peck. He sighs long and happily, and cuddles you closer,  tickling his fingers pleasantly over your neck. You wiggle into the affection and touch a finger to his lips, already immaculate along with the rest of what you so diligently roughed up . You huff through your nose- nothing ever sticks with him.

“Hmmm?” He leans towards your face again, not a demand, but an inquiry. You push your grievances aside and tilt your head, daring him to give as good as he gets. The smile that takes over his face can only be described as provocative, and he leans over, pressing you fully to the bed under his weight and licks a line up your neck before digging in whole heartedly. God it feels good.

“ _Ilya!”_ You exclaim (Not squeal- because you definitely don’t squeal). You have to grit your teeth to keep from giving him the pleasure of hearing you moan, but dammit this give and take is almost too fun for you to _bother_ trying to appear suave. Because that’s totally a thing you are. Your body buzzes a little being fully covered by him.

“Mmm we are going out today… " He says. "Perhaps I should focus somewhere no one else will see.” His voice is low, darker than normal, and you feel your heart pound excitedly. You grip into his hair and yank him down to your neck again, your grin wicked.

“Don’t you dare. That sort of privilege has to be _earned._ ” You hiss, and dig your nails into his scalp. His voice wavers delightfully and he presses into your hands. Composure begins to fail him.

“What do I need to do?” He says breathily, a red tinge beginning to rise up his neck. You run your fingers through his hair, enough to tease, but not to hurt. You think for a moment, enjoying the sway you have over him immensely while he waits and gets more and more red.

“Obviously, if you truly want to stake a claim, you’ll have to properly woo me.” You release him and lean back with your hands behind you head, lounging over your bed of gold while he pulls himself together. “I’ll need to be showered in gifts, jewels, riches… the usual fare.” He smiles and kisses you one more time before leaving you to stretch and burrow into the coins again. He picks up his coat from where it lies over the back of a chair and pulls it on before turning back to you expectantly. You curl around your riches like a dragon in a storybook and imagine your eyes flash just as greedily.

“Well then, we must be off." He says. "The Floating Market awaits.”

 

~~~~

 

Prakra, with its sparkling sandy beaches and crystal clear seas, annually sees plenty of merchant and pleasure vessels. Artificial islands dot the coast for casual use: swimming, diving, fishing, picnicking, ect. When the Floating Market is in town, these islands serve as docks for many of the shops- one of which is a ferry that runs customers between them. There are banners flapping in the wind like the standards of monarchs, announcing the arrival of antiques from far off lands, fried bread and sweets, parlor games, textiles, fortune telling- it’s a proper marketplace with festival flare, but on the sea.

You wander the market arm in arm, browsing and getting a lay of the land before Julian insists on striking out alone.

“I’ll be at your side again before the evening is out." He says. "I may need to do a little digging to find exactly what I have in mind.” You hold on a moment longer, feeling a little silly he’s running with your demand.

“You know you don’t actually have to get me anything, right?” You say plainly. It was fun to request in the moment, but you also don’t want him to go off and spend a fortune. He squeezes your hand once before dropping it.

“Nonsense. You deserve everything I have to offer you and more. Plus, it’s a well known fact that I give remarkably practical gifts.” He smiles and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. Before you can protest further, he turns and disappears into the growing crowds.

 

You wander the island, browse a few shops, eat some fried dough, and let your mind wander over your feelings towards Julian. Caring and being cared for like this- it’s beginning to feel a little less foreign. You idly touch your neck where you stopped him from leaving hugely noticeable marks before, and frown a little that giving him something similar in return just isn’t an option. You stop in front of a shop peddling mirrors and other glasswork. Without being too obvious, you shift your collar down in front of a mirror to double check the damages. If they didn’t know what to look for, you don’t think anyone would think the small dots of discolored skin are anything more than standard blemishes.

“Like what you see friend?” The shop keep says as he approaches. You quickly turn the other way to give the illusion of merely admiring your coat.

“Doesn’t everyone?” You reply smoothly, and give the man your attention. He wears a very fine outfit of sheer silver fabrics with patches of darker purple in all the necessarily modest places. His reflection glints in the mirror, and you take notice of the choker around his neck. It’s made of a very shiny but slightly obtrusive silver chain with small purple gems emblazoned on every other link. A bit peculiar for a necklace.

“That’s an interesting piece.” You comment, gazing at it. “Did you find it at the market?”

To your surprise, the shop keep flushes slightly and touches the choker, like it’s something you weren't meant to see.

“That’s very kind.” He murmurs, and then seems to regain his confidence. “A gift from someone very dear to me. They run one of the jewelry boats, but they do leather and woodworking too.” His voice trails off at the end. You’re just about to press for more information when another customer calls his attention away. He excuses himself, but as he turns around, your eyes grow wide at the sight of a simple silver lock holding the chain around his neck. The amount of self-control it takes you to stop ogling this stranger and walk away is a little embarrassing, but your imagination runs rampant with the implications of such an adornment and the relationship he must have to person who gave it to him. Your feet take you to the ferry and you sit looking out over the water as you approach the next island. Not thinking about if Julian would want to wear a collar at all. Last thing on your mind.

The island you step onto next is far more centered on textiles and garments. You walk from stall to stall touching a scarf or tapestry every so often. Maybe a scarf would be better? It would certainly be cheaper. If you know anything about good craftsmanship, it’s that it's expensive. Then again, his responses to being spoiled feel like a rewards in themselves. You start to feel like it’s a lost cause to find some compromise between keeping your money and getting something nice for Julian when nearby arguing breaks your focus. A child sits grimacing and wiggling about in a chair while a much older individual chastises her.

“If you don’t want them, then go back to the ship and stop complaining!” The older person follows the younger’s movements, holding what looks to be a block of cork in one hand, and a needle in the other. The child pouts and punches the seat of the chair.

“I _do_ want them, just _don’t make it hurt_!” She screams and then abruptly stops as an ear piercing is swiftly completed the moment she is still. The next second the needle is replaced with a simple golden post. The child touches her ear gingerly and then smiles.

“I TOLD you it wouldn’t and you had to go and make a scene anyway!” The old jeweler swats the girl on the head and you can’t help but see yourself and Mazelinka in the exact same roles, many years ago. As the child scampers away, you approach and the older person offers you a large smile and hearty welcome. When you mention that you're looking for the shop that supplied the piece you saw on the mirror seller, they let out a chesty laugh and usher you inside their boat, which bobs gently in the water.

There are displays upon displays of earrings, rings, necklaces, pins, and bracelets. The more you browse, you notice intricately detailed and dyed leather belts and handbags too. A red curtain with a large black heart on it hangs suspiciously towards the back of the room. Just when you’re about to shift the curtain aside the jeweler’s hand appears in front of you. They give you a wink.

“Just a fair warning dear, that next room isn’t for the faint of heart. Tailors to a more… intimate taste.”

“Anything, uhhh….” You gesture to one of the belts and then to your neck. The jeweler adopts a wide smile and pulls the curtain aside to usher you in. You swear you can feel all the money in your purse start to tremble in fear.

 

~~~~

 

You’re lounging on the tiny bed in the sick bay when Julian finally returns, carrying a small wooden box under his arm. He seems mildly flustered that you beat him back, but it could also be the two packages sitting beside you. You heart pounds in your chest.

“You’re already back! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He sets the box on the desk and pulls off his coat before coming over to join  you. He glances sheepishly at the packages.

“Did you-“ He starts.

“I did.” You say sitting up and resting a hand on his leg. “They’re for you- though I can return one of them if you don’t like it.” He blushes far more than you thought he would, not that that’s a bad thing.

“I’m flattered. You didn’t have to.” He tries to hide a small smile. You reach up and turn his face to kiss him, deftly pulling off his eye-patch and tossing it aside.

“I wanted to.” You say when he looks at you curiously. You set the gifts in his lap and he carefully unwraps the smaller one first. He picks it up to examine it, looking a little confused.

“An earring? Is this your way of saying I should get them pierced?” He gives you a sly grin. “Not that I’m opposed to it- would complete the whole ‘pirate’ look.” He holds up the silver hoop and looks at it carefully. Three red gems, no bigger than half a grain of rice, dot the exterior of the hoop, .

“Emsea, how much did this cost?”

You shift a little awkwardly, though the earing had been chump change compared to the main event. Your purse sits uncomfortably flat on your hip.

“Don’t worry about it. Open the next one.” You say and push the remaining package towards him. It only then crosses your mind that you could be entirely wrong about this and it could all go up in flames. As if sensing your anxiety, he quickly tears through the plain wrapping around the box and pushes open the lid.

It grows uncomfortably quiet for a moment, though you can hear your own racing pulse and breathing louder than before. He looks to you, mouth open but wordless, and a flush begins to creep up his face.

“You…”

He closes the box for a heart-stopping second, then opens it again. His lips twist into an embarrassed grin that he doesn’t even try to hide. You aren’t quite breathing again yet.

“…...Do you want to try it on?” You ask in one breath, leaning over a bit nearer to him. He pushes the box towards you, nodding with intent affirmation. The gesture is enough to ease the tension from you, and you take the box with a smile. His eyes never leave it, and his cheek twitches slightly with the force of whatever emotion it’s made him feel.

You lift from the box a black leather collar, intricately stamped with an silver lattice pattern. A single D-ring is attached at the front, and at each end of the leather is half of an elegant locking mechanism. You hesitate before reaching to put it on him, even as he leans towards you. You grow a little flushed yourself looking at the inscription you had added at the last second to the inside. You remind yourself to relax-all signs point to you being right and him being very into this.

“Take your boots off first.” You order, and with no hesitation, he obeys. His movements are precise- meticulous as he unbuckles the garters above his knees and begins to pull the tall boots off. You feel yourself getting hotter as he brings both knees up onto the bed and looks at you with such utter desperation. You’ve never felt better about having spent lots of money than you do now.

Turning the collar around, you hear a small gasp as the inscription catches his eye.

_Ilya_

It’s carved into the leather and stained silver like the lattice on the outside. The lock clicks into place and you feel the collar shift as he swallows. You run two fingers under it all the way around to ensure it sits comfortably, and settle back to look at him. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen him this tense with anticipation, so ready for any direction on what to do. He sits quietly on his knees, long legs tucked up under him, eyes trained on the empty space between you two.

“Ilya?” You say and he snaps to attention with a sharp inhale. “Do you like it?” You’re pretty sure you already know the answer to that, but you have a feeling he’d like to tell you.

He nods a bit too eagerly and the metal parts of the collar 'clink' lightly. The smile across his face is unlike any you’ve seen before- so utterly pleased and giddy. You smile at his joy and crawl closer to him. You kiss him gently and hook a finger into the front of the collar, pulling him towards you with absolutely no resistance. You lounge back further, guiding him to climb over you. You continue to kiss at his cheek before trailing your lips down to his jaw, pulling the collar a little lower to get better access to what's finally been marked as your own. This close, you hear his throat work his nearly silent, needy whimpering: into words.

“I really do like it a lot.” He admits in a brief moment of clarity. “But it must have been expensive- are you sure you want to spend all your money on muaaahhhh…..” His focus abandons him as you alternate between unforgivingly harsh biting and kissing on his neck. You give a pointed yank at the D-ring and glare at him, mismatched gaze looking right back at you.

“Stop trying to convince me you’re not worth it.” You say.

You slip both hands under the wonderfully strong but supple leather and pull his mouth to yours, at the same time wrapping your legs around him much as you did this morning. He finally relinquishes himself to your guidance and starts kissing you back. His arms waver the slightest bit as he supports your weight. You pause briefly.

“Up.” You whisper, and he leans back, levering you up with him so you’re sitting in his lap. His hands hover over your back, the tremble in them betraying how badly he wants to hold you.

“You can touch me.” You say between kisses. His face is _so_ red. “I never said you couldn’t.” Permission is all he needed. His arms come around you, hugging tightly. His face is against your neck and he presses small, reverent kisses there. You move your hands to card your fingers through his hair and speak softly to him.

“I didn’t waste a cent on you. You deserve everything I give to you, as long as you’re mine. Make no mistake that you are more important than any treasure to me. Do you understand? You are my treasure. You’re _mine._ ” You grip into his hair and he hugs you tighter, nodding against you. He finally looks up, eyes blown black with lust and affection.

“I’m your’s.”

You take a break from your monologue to lick into his mouth like it’s coated in candy. When you’re satisfied, you reach off to the side, leaving him to steady you without so much as a word, and pull a second item from the velvet lined box. He bites his lip and tilts his chin up as you clip a braided black cord to the collar. You give it an experimental tug and his eyes slide shut. His hands knead into the back of your shirt . He's never give himself this fully to you before. It’s intoxicating, and you know you’re going to need to act on your own desires soon, before you lose your focus. You yank on the lead and his eyes flutter back open.

“You’re going to be patient while I undress you.” You tell him, and tie him to the closet leg of the desk with a quick-release knot(safety first!). He strains a bit to stay upright while you slink off behind him. You reach around to unbuckle his belt, then his pants, though you leave them on. He stays as still as he can while being perfectly compliant to every shift you ask him to make. You press your hips to his loosely covered ass and a shaky breath escapes him. You encompass his long form the best you can and slide your hands up under his shirt, lifting it as you glide your palm up over his ribs to his shoulders. He bites back a groan when you dart back down to tweak one of his nipples. It’s a bit of maneuvering to get the shirt over his arms, and then it just hangs around the taut lead. You shed your own shirt and loosen your pants, tossing layers aside as obviously as possible until you’re left in nothing but the barest minimum of under clothes.

You finally untie the lead and toss his shirt onto the floor before turning him this way and that so you can look over how he’s doing so far. You tug his pants the rest of the way down, one leg at a time, leaving him completely bare. He is unsurprisingly, very aroused. You resume your position at his back to wrap your arms around him. Such a good boy, he stays perfectly still. His skin is impossibly soft, dotted all over with little moles. Your fingers brush over the fine red hairs on his chest and you kiss him between the shoulder blades.

“You’re being very, very good.” You murmur into his skin and hold him against you while dropping one hand lower and lower. “So patient. So obedient.” You rub your palm over his hip and trace _just_ around the bush of hair that surrounds his cock. You slide your fingers into the seam between his thigh and groin, and he shifts a little, slightly less stable now. You float past his balls, running the back of your hand up the length of him to the slick tip. You wrap your fingers around to start to stroke him and he just about doubles over were it not for your firm grip on the lead. He whines pitifully while you force him to remain upright.

“Relax.” You hiss, feeling your own voice get heavy with desire. “You don’t need to do a thing. I’ll take care of you.”

You resume from where you were so rudely interrupted and work him right at the head, occasionally sliding further down his length. His jaw falls open as he begins to pant, and you give a light pressure on the lead which he immediately leans into- not enough to choke, but just enough to make breathing a little more difficult. You rub your crotch against the curve of his ass and hum happily into his skin.

“I’ve got so many ideas of things we can try. Maybe next time I’ll dig out my own cock and fuck you until you can’t scream anymore?” You say, getting a little wrapped up in the moment yourself and popping your hips against him. He grits his teeth through a shuddering moan and arches back into your crotch. You smile into him and press a quick kiss to his back- you'll allow bending over for your sake. You pull your hand from his cock to give him a slap on the ass followed by digging in your nails. That hits a certain breaking point, and he cries out once and he nearly goes down again, though this time his hands jump from twitching at his sides to pull back on the collar to provide a little relief. You immediately drop the pressure and scurry around the front of him to make sure he’s okay. He remains doubled over and just pants for a moment.

“Ilya? Are you okay? You’re still doing wonderfully dear.” You say and brush a lock of hair from his flushed and sweaty face and rub his back. He nods as he pants, giving you a small smile. That fills you with such glee that you let him have the moment to rest while you shimmy down your pants.

When he’s caught his breath, you reach around and unclip the leash. He glances at you, baffled, but you prod him into kneeling and slide under him. You’re not sure you can be more obvious with your intent than that, but just in case you pull him down to a heated kiss again before spreading your legs further and holding his face to yours.

“Fuck me, Ilya.”

The words are enough to make him shudder and take several deep breaths. You stroke one hand through his curls and down his neck, the other slides over your body to provide some attention to your own very patient self.

“Mmmmm, Julian, come _on._ ” You moan a little beneath him while you stroke yourself.

“I won’t last long.” He admits. He looks at you with the same expression of wanton desire that’s had you hooked since the night you met.

“Doesn’t matter.” You lean up to kiss him. “Just pull out when you need to and I’ll finish some other way.” You kiss him once again and tip your head back, finding a particularly good spot to touch yourself. You arch your hips up towards him and he _finally_ hunkers down in earnest. His face softens from the panting mess you’ve reduced him to, like he’s starting to come back into himself after riding the high.  
“Just go slow to start- it’s been a while.” You add quickly and he nods, curls falling over your face in light tickle. You reach out to guide him, and with a slow press he finds you. You grin and tense around him, the buzz of resistance against your muscles makes you hum with pleasure and pull him closer, of course by the collar.

“Is it- is it alright?" He stutters. "You’re-“

“Mmmmmm, _JULIAN.”_ Is how you respond and tense around him in a steady pulse.

“Ohhhhhhhh hell.” He says and grits his teeth. “Fuck me. You’re-“ He slides the rest of the way into you, groaning rather than finishing his thought. There’s a tickle in your nethers as you squeeze around him and you squirm in delight. He’s back to just slowly breathing for a moment, trying to keep control after everything he’s experienced. He begins to thrust, each one growing more rhythmic and focused than the last. His weight and warmth is comfortable atop you, even as your own hand becomes pinned to the point of immobility. You slide it out and roam your hands over his chest, just enjoying all of him. He presses his lips to yours in a messy kiss. He comes down onto his elbows and holds your mouth to his.

“You feel so good.” He whispers between kisses, despite your best efforts to keep his tongue occupied. “You feel so, so good.” He moans and increases his pace.

You rake your nails down his back. He shudders, and then abruptly pulls his hips back. Still he hums and moves his mouth over your lips. You feel the wet shock of him on your thigh and he breaks away a second to shudder a sigh. He returns to your mouth quickly, making those glorious little sounds. You wrap a leg up over his hip and pull him down so your bodies are flush, hot against each other. He nuzzles your neck and breathes slowly and easily between kisses and the soft caress of your hand over his back. He just seems so happy. Just so undeniably content as you feel his heart against yours slowly beginning to calm down. You fiddle with the ring on his collar and it seems to make him remember something.

“Wait here.” He says, and leaves the bed for only an instant. The absence feels jarringly cold, but the view of him walking naked except for the stark black collar brings your fingers back to your own need. He opens the latches on the box he laid on the desk and returns to you, turning a key in a strange handheld object. He continues winding, and settles back onto the edge of the bed. Your expression and halted hand at the sight of the object must be enough to prompt an explanation.

“I uh, don’t suppose you’ve ever been treated for hysteria?” He says.

“Hysteria?” You say, amused. Julian blushes slightly and drops his gaze to the object in his hand.

“Yes, well- it was a fake disease that doctors tried to treat by giving people orgasms.” He looks at you for a response. “That sounds like a joke, doesn’t it.” He adds. You smile and nod, sitting up next to him.

“It does, but you’re the expert.” You say and try to get a better look. Doesn’t look like anything you would think could get someone’s rocks off. A keyhole and required key for winding like a clock at the base, a walking stick-like handle, and a round smooth ball at the other end.

“Perhaps it would be easier if I just showed you?” His thumb presses down on a switch and the entire thing begins to buzz in his hand.

“Whaaaaat the fuck?” You back away against the wall, a little alarmed that he might be thinking it would be a good idea to stick that in you. Instead he reaches for your hand.

“Here, just feel it on your wrist.” He says gently. You let him bring the round end to your wrist, and only jump a little when it touches your skin. Yup, it certainly is vibrating.

“Uh. I’m not super sure about having that inside me.” You say, still very suspicious. He laughs and kisses your hand.

“It doesn’t go inside- at least this one doesn’t. It does the same thing as your hand.” He shifts closer to you and glides one hand up from your knee towards your crotch, and your curiosity and horniness is intrigued. You shift your legs slightly wider apart and let him touch you. He’ll need some practice at it, but there’s hope. He switches off the device and leans over you.

“Lie back down? You can even operate it if you want, I’m sure my hands can find other things to do.” He says with a grin. You let him lay you down and ponder what he’s offering.

“I’ll let you try it first.” You say, and slide your legs back open a little, feeling your heart pound with a bit of fear. _What if it’s really bad? You'll disappoint him._  Your anxiety drolls in your head. _No._ This is Julian. If something is wrong, he won’t be mad- he’ll understand.

He flips the switch back on and takes up position sitting comfortably between your legs. He carefully runs the rounded end over the top of your thighs, and slowly the sensation becomes less alarming. He drifts closer and closer to your bits, and first just lets it buzz at the top, taking it slow before trying it on a more sensitive area.

“Everything alright?” He says. You raise a brow slightly.

“Yes Doctor, you may proceed.” You tease. It could just be your mind playing tricks, but you swear that just made his cock twitch. He lets the rounded end lean on his finger to dull the sensation briefly, and then slips it away. You inhale sharply and pull away from it a little.

“Ah, put your finger back. It’s a little intense.”

He complies and gives your knee an encouraging squeeze with the other hand.

“Just let me know if you want to stop. There’s lots of other stuff we can do.” He gives a big ol’ dumb flirty grin and you snort. You try and let your body relax, but after a few minutes, nothing seems to be happening despite the device’s stated purpose. You think about what you would normally do if you were just using your hand, and experimentally flex.

Oh.

You flex again.

OH.

“Mm. Ilya?” You say, squirming your face into the pillow a little. “Be a dear and finger me?” He does you one better and awkwardly hunches forward for a quick kiss before slipping in a few fingers. You flex around him and boy that’s _intense_.

“Ooohhhkay I think it’s working.” You say and lean back on a pillow. You give a couple more squeezes and he starts to rub inside you. How fast you’re getting close is astonishing. “Keep-“ You have to stop and take a breath. Now it’s still intense even when you’re not actively flexing- just him rubbing that spot inside you, providing resistance where your body needs it, everything keeps amping up.

“Keep doing thaaaaaaaaa…” You trail off, because you need to focus just to control your own body. You can barely keep your eyes open.

“Julian.” You gasp and grab at the sheet, but it's not enough, so you wind up just gripping your own arms.

“Julian.” You force your eyes open and catch a quick glimpse of Julian smiling at you. You rock your hips through the sensations, breathing hard suddenly. A cold wave of loneliness washes over you.

“Julian.” You twist your face into the pillow. It's just not the same. “I need you here-“ You shudder and shift away from the intense sensations.

“Need me where?” He sounds immediately concerned. “Should I turn it off?”

“ _No_ , just, get up here and hold me.” Your chest heaves. It’s just so much you need something to help ground you or you’ll be overwhelmed. As he shifts and sidles up next to you, you wonder if sometimes this is how he feels. He pulls you to his chest and you snuggle in, angling one leg out and tangling the other with his. He kisses your hair and you grunt impatiently and hump his leg a little.

“I’m glad you like it.” He chuckles and reaches back down. There’s no way for him to hold you and use his hands at the same time, but there’s always other times.

The vibrations return. This time when the sensations build, you dig your nails into his skin and tighten your leg around him. You hear his breathing change, now that he's much more immediately involved. You can imagine future experiences and bite your own arm. Would he be able to feel the buzzing too with his dick inside you? If this is what it can do to you, just imagine the havoc it could wreak on him…

“You’re so adorable.” He kisses your temple and you grab his wrist to halt his slow rubbing motion. You take over, rocking into the device’s head. You pant, feeling how close you are, how close he is to you. You tense one more time and pull his neck down so he can kiss you. You hum into him as everything pulses through you. You’re on a cloud, floating with him. Your mind is hazy with the rush he’s given you and your lips get sloppier. When you're able to, you loosen your hold on him. He turns off the machine and stretches towards the desk to set it aside, but is quick to return.

“Mmmmmm that was good.” You say. You get your head comfy leaning on his chest. His fingertips trail up your ribs, to your shoulder blades, to your neck, and back down again.

“That was very, very good.” You murmur into him, wanting nothing more but to just lie there with him.

"I'd glad." He says sweetly. "You weren't too bad yourself."

The night is young. In the back of your mind you remind yourself to not fall asleep, because you still want to seek out the Captain to ask if she managed to find any work. But for now, you relax, and let the pleasure simmer through you. You run your hand down the long line of your lover beside you, and squeeze that precious booty.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long ago, one of the devs tweeted a sketch of Julian in a collar that read, 'Daddy's boy'. Alas, I could not find this image to link to it.
> 
> Stay thirsty, my friends.
> 
> Edit 11/24/19
> 
> I FOUND IT  
> https://twitter.com/danarune/status/1116803055968604161


	10. how is this ten chapters now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local idiots act like semi-functioning adults just in time to flirt* with death. 
> 
> *there is no actual flirting with death

 

_Your boots crunch as you ascend the gravel path. It leads to the house on the cliff- the one built into the lighthouse._

_The house that you both chose._

_You shift your pack on your shoulders, full of salts and rare herbs you promised to get for him. You’re nearly halfway up the path when the front door swings open and you see him step into the frame. The wind tosses his hair and his loose shirt flutters in the breeze. You feel a grin take a hold of your face as you wave and hurry onwards, the contents of your pack clinking in their jars. The door slams shut behind him as he walks casually towards you, and when it’s down to only mere feet, you let your feigning desire to appear cool and aloof fall away and run to him. He lifts you from the ground easily, turning in a slow, swinging circle. He presses kisses to your smile before you can even manage a ‘hello’._

_“Welcome home.” He murmurs against you, lowering you back to the ground. You cradle his face in your hands and hold your forehead against his._

_“It’s good to be home.” You tell him, breathing his sent that’s become synonymous with the sentiment. “I’ve brought you so many things.” You look away to draw the jars from your pack, already imagining the joy soon to be on his face. But when you turn back to him, it isn’t joy you see._

_His face is red, and streaked with tears. His chest shudders and his arms wrap around himself. The bag drops from your hands; the glass jars within shatter against the gravel._

_“Ilya?” You reach up to his face, but he screws his eyes shut and won’t see you. You grip his shoulders and give him a shake. “Ilya, I’m here. Wake up!”_

_Wake up._

Your eyes fly open in the darkness, but it’s as though you can see exactly what’s happening. Ilya’s arm trembles and twitches across your back. His chest heaves beneath your cheek. When you reach up to touch his face-it’s wet with tears.

“Julian.” You shake him gently, but he just gasps and sobs in his sleep. Your heart pounds in the beginnings of panic. What if you _can’t_ wake him?

“Julian, wake up!” You give him a firmer shake and his hands fly to your wrists. He pants, and through the dark you feel his reddened eyes searching for you.

“… Emsea?”

“It’s only me.” You squeeze the tense shoulders in your hands. “You were having a bad dream.” His chest rises, falls, and quickly rises again. He releases you and you hear a loud sniff and muttered curses.

“Damn. I’m sorry I woke you.”

You crack a small smile you know he won’t see. Still Julian.

You smooth back his hair.

“You should be sorry, I was having the most lovely dream.” You say and snuggle back up against him. His arms come around you and his breathing grows calmer with his hands upon your steadfast form. You tell yourself it’s enough that he’s calming down, but you really wish he would say something back. Something to let you know you’ve done the right things to help him. He finally exhales into a breathy laugh.

“Was I in your dream?” He gives your arm a squeeze. You gaze up at him in the darkness.

“You were. I was just about to give you most wonderful things.” You say, though worry quietly runs through you that he’ll press for more details. It was so… domestic, and you can’t quite picture how he’d respond to hearing that you dreamed something like that. Not that dreams are quite the same as desires, just the result of idle thoughts being given room to grow. But still, it must imply… something.

Julian squeezes you and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Naughty things?” He says.

“Can’t recall.” You push the worries back into the dark. “I never got to give you them.”

“Well.” He says. “I suppose you should go back to sleep again.”

You can still feel a gentle tapping of his fingers on your side and arm. He’s fidgeting all the while he tells you to relax.

“… What were you dreaming about?” You ask. The drumming stops and for a moment he’s still. You turn your head towards his and scoot up to kiss his cheek, remaining that close for a moment. Even if he doesn’t want to talk about it, you feel deep down this is what he needs. He’s made you better by being there when you had to face your fears. You can be there for him. In the dark you feel his eyelashes tickle your skin.

“Whatever it was,” you say, “it really had you upset.” You settle back against his chest and let him decide if he'll say.

“It was… “ He pauses, taking a moment to steel himself. “I dreamed I was back in the Vesuvian Palace. The night before, and the night of the murder, all mixed into one.” The words tumble out, all in the same breath. He continues. “I remembered… that I had been locked away.” His hand grips you and then releases. You listen quietly, putting together what you already know with the new information. His next words are strained through his teeth. “They gave me the plague, and then locked me in a room to find the cure.” You process this for a minute as the string of words solidified to have meaning.

Oh that’s fucked up.

You sit up, snapping your fingers to light a candle in the darkness. It flickers to light and the flame dances and glows in his single red eye.

“They did _what?”_ Your face twists at something so absurd. “That’s…” you don't have the words for it.

“Inhumane? Torturous? Cruel?” He offers a few and shields himself from the sudden light. “Really I should have known it was coming. Perfectly on par for those in charge.” You grimace.

“People in charge on that scale are rarely in the right.” You say, growing more awake and disturbed as you think about it. Julian is quiet. You weren't in Vesuvia long, but your impression of the City was similar to that of a smaller Port Tremaire: rowdy in dark holes and on the edges, business and corruption on the inside. “In what way is infecting a Doctor going to help?” You say, searching the tense lines of his face.

“Motivation. More pressing to find a cure when it’s your own life and suffering on the line.” He adds. His lips press together. “And that’s just the thing.” He looks at you. The candlelight is a bright spark in his eyes, beautiful atop the red and the grey. You almost can’t imagine him without the unmatched pair, but how horrible must he have felt to first see them?

“I did it. I’m alive. Something happened that cured the plague. If I could just remember what it was…” His gaze drops in shame and you slightly regret inviting this conversation. You could have lied about your dream and just gone down the ‘naughty things’ route- now he’s just sad. You touch his throat where the mark always glows.

“Could your mark have cured you?” You ask. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“It’s crossed my mind,” He says, “but it doesn’t help that I’m hazy on how I got it.” He rubs his temples and lets out a long sigh before pulling you close to him again. You settle down beside him and grip a fistful of his shirt, hoping that if you’re not smart enough to help him, maybe just being close will be enough.

“I just wish I could remember what I did.” He says. “Whatever happened that night, a man wound up dead and the plague ended. I can’t help but wonder if it’s related.”

Your mind flits to your studies into the Arcane. The stories of exchanges made, deals struck with powerful beings. Of supernatural occurrences and people and places that simply disappeared.

“Could it have been magic?” You say. His fingers drum on your skin again and you feel sleep begin to draw on your body again.

“I don’t know. Maybe? There was a magician working on a cure for the plague- I don’t have any reason to think he was close to a breakthrough though.” Julian muses.

“Mmm. Maybe there’s a spell?” You murmur and he turns his head to look at you. “To help with your memory.” You explain. It’s the least you can offer, after all the grief your magic has caused him. “I’ll look in my books in the morning.” You yawn and feel him shift under you to snuff out the candle.

“Are we going back to sleep?” You ask.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to.” He says. You huff, and drowsily draw yourself up beside him and tug his arms until he lies against you. He complies slowly, and sighs into your chest as your fingers glide up the back of his neck.

“I think you should try.” You murmur, and let your eyes slide shut, promising yourself you’ll not fall asleep until he does. He shifts a bit, and you hold him fast across your body. No escape now- he’s just won a non-refundable ticket to sleepy time junction. You alternate between scratching at his scalp and trailing your fingers over the top of his spine.

“Go to sleep, Julian.” You yawn. It takes a little while, but his weight finally gives and his head becomes heavy on your chest. You smile to yourself at the mastery of this skill, and gracefully slip back into sleep.

 

~~~~

Julian sits in utmost confidence as the Jeweler lines up a rather intimidating contraption to his ear. You idly browse an array of simple seashell accouterment with Saoirse, who picks out individual pieces to balance on their nose. They lift onto their hind flippers, raising a small conch on a leather strap before your eyes.

“I already told you, _no._ ” You wave them out of your face and glance back towards Julian, who shoots you a sly grin as the Jeweler fastens the clasp of his earring. You gape a little at the apparent speed at which the procedure was finished. When you had attempted it on the ship using the good ‘ol needle and cork method, it had very quickly become clear that Julian’s ears are _very_ good at healing as soon as the piecing needle is out. Glutton for pain that he is, he let you try again three or four times before asking very gently that _maybe_ the Jeweler might have more luck. You couldn’t deny that your fingers had grown clumsy due to frustration and a fair amount of blood, so you agreed to call it quits.

You approach your newly pierced lover, leaving Saoirse whining by the shells. Julian turns his head this way and that, the silver hoop dangling and the gems catching the sunlight.

“What do you think?” He grins, giving it a light flick. You remember doing much the same when you first got your ears pierced. The weight and feel had been very distracting, even if now you don’t even notice them.

“Very dashing. It looks even better not covered in blood.” You rest a hand on his shoulder and the Jeweler nods.

“Be sure to keep it clean- little wipe with a strong spirit morning and night outta do it.” They walk over to a pail of steaming water and drop the piercing mechanism in.

“Of course.” Julian stands and gives the pail a thoughtful look. “Do you sanitize all your instruments?” He leans down for a moment while you bat at the earing.

“Ay, though you still get folks coming back after not doing any upkeep claiming that the metal’s bad or the piercing was botched.” They say with a roll of their eyes. “Fuckers.” Julian nods, flinching for a moment when you accidentally wedge your fingertip through the hoop. The Jeweler smiles knowingly as Julian stills your hand and continues the conversation like it didn’t even happen.

“It’s unfortunate how little most people know about the way infection spreads.” He says and directs your attention back over to Saoirse. The seal freezes when they catch you looking and gives a low growl. You cock your head.

“Did they steal something?” You say and gently un-wedge your finger. You stride over to the indignant seal and pry open their jaws. Sure enough, a small conch necklace is just peeking out.

“ _Saoirse._ ” You say.

“AuuuuUUUUUUUUUNNNNGGGaaaahhhhh..” Saoirse whines pitifully. The Jeweler laughs.

“The beast has taste! You’ve been a good customer, so go ahead and keep it. I don’t think seal spit will do anything to help the price.” They say. You smile sheepishly and free the shell to tie it properly around Saoirse’s thick neck. They hum happily. When you return to Julian, you wonder if he’d like to talk more about Doctory things, especially since it’s so rare he has the chance to.

  
“Um. How does infection spread?” You feel your face get a little red, admitting you don’t know, but Julian breaks into a pleased smile.

“The basics of it,” He explains, “is that any breaks in the skin are like a break in your body’s defense. If anything that touches a wound isn’t itself clean, whatever might be on its surface is introduced to the wound. That’s why good Doctors use sterile instruments for operating.” He gestures towards the Jeweler. “And that’s why it’s a good thing they use pure metals for their piercings. Much harder for infections to spread in pure compounds.”

“You a Doctor then?” The Jeweler asks. Julian casually slides an arm over your shoulders. He nods to the Jeweler while you take a light hold of his fingers, comfortable.

“Indeed. My original mentor was actually a Prakran native.” He adds. The Jeweler nods.

“Not sure if you’re looking for new patients, but there’s an old merchant with a black dingy off the last segment of the market who’s been asking around for a Doctor ‘past couple of days.”

You and Julian exchange a glance. The Captain had been struggling to find any contracts to take on, so an opportunity for income was worth exploring.

“This man have a name?” You ask. The Jeweler shakes their head.

“I don’t know him, but seems like he does most of his business in the Night Market, if that makes any difference.” The Jeweler turns away as a few more customers wander in. “Just thought I’d pass the message along. Up to you what you do with it. Welcome!” The Jeweler follows their new customers back inside their shop and you and Julian are left watching Saoirse admire their reflection in the water.

“Think it’s worth checking out?” You ask. Working the Night Market implies the man may be moving less than legal or ethically sound goods, but Julian gives a small nod.

“Might as well. The worst that can happen is we get turned away.” He says, and offers you his arm as you make your way towards the ferry. You reach up and lightly touch his earring.

“Have I ever told you how sexy it is when you talk about infections and Doctor-y stuff?” You say, feeling something a little more than casual fondness as you look at him.

“Just wait until you hear me argue against outdated used of bloodletting.” He wiggles a brow at you.

 

Among the brightly colored shops sporting large banners is a ragged looking ship with a worn wooden sign advertising curios. On the deck sits a withered old man wrapped in a moth-eaten cloak. A long age-stretched nose protrudes from the hood. He glances up as you and Julian approach.

“We’re closed.” He rasps. He certainly doesn’t sound well, but you suppose Julian will be the judge of that.

“Good afternoon sir, are you by any chance the gentleman who’s been asking after a Doctor?” Julian says, giving a small bow.

The old man leans forward in his seat. A monocle magnifies one eye, and the other lolls to the side- you recognize the telltale sign of glass. It’s certainly a look.

“Might be.” The old man says. “You a Doc’ta?” His gaze wanders from Julian to you, and you hold the odd stare.

“I am.” Julian replies. The man doesn’t move, just looks from you to Julian, and back again. Julian clears his throat.

“Though, if you aren’t in need of a Doctor, then we’re very sorry to bother you and we’ll be on our way…” He starts to turn to go, but the man croaks again.

“Never said I wasn’t. You from around here? Prakran?”

“Nevivon, my good man.”

The old man nods slowly and rises, though the hunch of his back is so extreme he’s not that much taller standing than he was sitting. He comes down off the deck and takes careful steps towards Julian before coming to an expectant halt. You watch as Julian leans down to listen to a whisper before startling a little as the man clasps his arm. Julian blinks and nods before straightening up. The man deposits a small handful of coins in Julian’s hand and retreats. You realize your hand has come to rest on the hilt of your sword, and force it to relax it. The man begins the slow task of unmooring his boat with frail hands. Julian’s hand comes to your back and he guides you back into the main thorofare.

“We’ll meet him about a mile off the market tonight.” Julian says, and stealthily flashes you the coins in his hand. “He paid half now, half to be paid later.” Your eyes go wide. Platinum: an oddity, to say the least.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask, looking over your shoulder as the hunched man pulls the last of the ropes back up onto the small ship. Julian shrugs.

“He wouldn’t say, only that he needed a guarantee of Doctor-patient privacy.” Used to it by now, Julian immediately catches your confused look. “I had to assure him that I wouldn’t incriminate him or tell anyone if I find something tonight.”

You huff.

“Well that doesn’t sound the least bit sketchy.” You say. Julian wraps an arm around your waist to deposit the coins in your pocket. You grip his hand(and the coins) through the fabric as he gives you a devilish grin.

“Not suspicious in the least.” He says, eye darkening as he pulls you closer. “But it certainly is exciting.”

 

~~

 

A single, dim, light guides you as a waypoint in the dark expanse of the sea. Back towards the shore, the Night Market glows, a cheery row with strung lights connecting each island. The sloop lazes across the water with the help of your conjured wind. Julian occasionally steadies the rudder. Saoirse stands attentive looking over the bow, focused like a bloodhound-proud, majestic, round. Your stomach feels tense looking past them. The moment the outline of the black boat comes into view, you experience the unsettling feeling of being watched. The very air around the boat seems darker, as though shrouded in a fog. The water feels thicker somehow, making the sloop move slower. Julian is unusually quiet, and you’re sure he must feel it too.

The sloop comes to a stop near the dimly lit boat. The light within glows brighter, and a hunched figure steps out onto the deck.

“Evening.” The same sour voice cracks and the hairs on your neck stand. You leave the greetings to Julian, and approach Saoirse. They turn to face you, black eyes shining in the lantern light.

“You stay on the boat,” You say, “if anything goes wrong, I’ll call for you, okay?”

 _“Stronger together.”_ You hear in your mind, though it carries a hint of anxiety.

_Stronger together._

_“Careful. Bad feeling.”_

_Yeah….yeah._

Sairse cocks their head and nudges you. The tickle of their whiskers releases some of your apprehension.

_Sorry. I feel it too. There’s something wrong here._

_“Stronger together. Stay near.”_

Saoirse gives you a final nudge and retreats to the opposite side of the boat before silently slipping into the water. Julian secures the gangplank to the sloop and offers you his hand. You firmly grasp it, catching his eye and staring hard. Your mouth is a hard line. He gives you a grim nod before patting the pocket where you know he carries a knife.

 

The shop on the black boat is full of antiques, curios, and strange creatures in jars. A shiver runs through you hear the door lock behind you. You give the old man a stern look.

“The key is right here.” The old man sets a key in a dish of what looks to be various animal bones beside the door. “I’ve no intent to keep you trapped, just to keep unwanted visitors out.” He shuffles past you.

“Are you expecting unwanted visitors?” You say stiffly. The old man grumbles to himself.

“You’ll understand if you live to be my age.” He shuffles past you to join Julian, who looks around the shop in wonder. You wouldn’t be surprised to find magic here, but when you reach out with your senses on a whim, you're met with a rainbow of different essences. Most are faint- trinkets, the odd loose bead. Deeper in however, something seems… there, and yet not.

It’s just enough to distract you from the swirling, solidifying, fog outside.

 

“A fascinating collection.” Julian comments. “Are you in the business of trading oddities?” The hunched man nods and rubs his hands over each other.

“I’ve seen and passed along bizarre things in my day.” He mutters, and leads you and Julian further into the shop towards a long trunk covered in brass sculptures. He carefully moves these onto shelves and turns to Julian.

“I should tell you Doc’ta, I’ve ain’t called you here to examine me.” He says. Julian tenses, but says nothing. Your hand finds the hilt of your sword.

“I’ve seen strange things in my time,” The old man continues. “demonic creatures with leather wings, scaly things that were half man, half fish." He pauses, resting a wrinkled hand on the trunk. “But nothing like this.” The old man fiddles with the lock. You see Julian give him a hard stare and feel your heart begin to pound.  With a click, the lock on the trunk pops open, and the old man opens the lid. Julian takes a cautious step forward and peers over the edge. You watch his face take on a slight green hue for a moment before he swallows and pulls himself together.

“Dear me. A-a corpse?” He says, and your blood runs cold. It’s better than a keeping a living person in there, but not by much. You glance from Julian to the old man, who begins to reach into the trunk like it’s full of nothing by clothes.

“Not ‘tirely.” He rasps.

“How the hell is something ‘not ‘tirely’ a corpse!?” You spit, but the man simply pulls up a pale arm to present to Julian.

“Have a feel.” The old man says. For all the perfectly reasonable terror flooding through you, Julian seems strangely fascinated. He removes a glove and takes the pale wrist with a practiced confidence you don’t think you could ever have. The moment he touches the skin his face flashes with confusion.

“It’s warm…” He murmurs, and then turns to the old man. “If you don’t mind, is there any way I could have a better look?”

“But o’ course. Right here- upsie daisy.”

You nearly vomit as you watch Julian and the crooked old man lift a non descript body from the trunk. Julian holds it under the arms like a massive toddler while the old man closes the lid to lay the body out. The scalp is bald. The entire form seems to hold some form of bloat, such that you can’t tell exactly what the features are, but you can see that it is indeed human. Your knee gives a little under you when you see the chest rise and fall slightly as it breathes. Julian lays the living corpse out on the trunk.

“No external genitals.” Julian mutters and presses his ears to the body’s chest. “A beating heart. Working lungs.” He straightens and turns to the old man. “Does it eat? Produce waste?”

The crooked man shakes his head and his hood falls back. His bald head is patched with liver spots, and a few scars that look to be criminal brands. Grey hair peeks out from his ears. Your head begins to pound slightly, like you’ve dove underwater and swum down too far.

“Just sits and breathes.” The old man says. “Found it floating in the Southwestern seas, just outside Vesuvia. Thought it might've been one more sorry sap lost to that plague, but when I fished it out…. Have you ever seen something like it, Doc?”

Julian slowly shakes his head.

“Can’t say that I have.” He says, pulling his glove back on and turning to you. The furrow of his brow makes you realize you’re shaking.

“I’m terribly sorry to ask you this," He says gently, "but can you ascertain if this… body might be in some way magical?”  You look from the corpse back to him. The sour man’s eyes narrow.

“A magician traveling with a Doc’ta? Now I have seen everything.” He cackles.

The thought of going anywhere near that thing makes your stomach quake, but you suppose you don’t have to touch it to tell the nature of its magic. You reach out, just as you did before, and feel much the same as when you entered. A swirling pool of potential, but no flavor to it, no inclination of a desire or want.

“It is. It’s magic.” You nod. But, before you can learn anything, you’re overwhelmed with a rush of heat, followed by a blood-chilling cold- from behind you.

 

_“Death comes! Death comes!”_

 

You shudder and rip your eyes from the body, spinning to look back towards the doorway.

The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

The key remains in the bone dish.

There is a figure. Petit, with their head slightly cocked to the side. You feel nothing from them, no essence, no life. An empty void, a darkness like nothing you’ve ever seen. You take a step back towards Julian and the figure reveals a hideous smile of sharpened teeth.

“Well, well, well! This is an unexpected surprise.” Their voice is surprisingly even though it carries the slightest rasp. The terror that overtakes you makes you stumble. Julian is immediately there to catch you, pulling you behind him immediately. When you glance to his face, he’s gone ghostly pale, and there’s a tremor to his limbs. The old man springs to action.

“Begone, reaper!” He barks, and reaches for a walking stick laying nearby. “Shoo! Shoo! Git!” He raises it over his head in a threatening manner, rushing the figure. But they merely blink at him.

“Rather feisty for your age, aren’t you?” The figure says, and they catch the walking stick mid-air as the old man strikes. They lift him from the ground and smile idly as they throw him against the wall, as though it required no more effort than clearing some cobwebs. A pile of treasures and antiques crash from the shelves onto the old man’s lifeless form.

 

_Help help helpHELPHELPHELP!!!_

 

As they start to approach, Julian presses you backwards. You yank your sword from its sheath, though the hilt is sweaty in your palm. Julian’s breathing is shallow, but he grinds his teeth into a grin.

“Quasetor Valdemar. You’re awfully far from home?” Julian sneers and pulls his knife. His arm is shaking and you can see his hair growing dark with sweat. Their head twitches back in the other direction.

“I might say the same to you, Doctor.” All the while, their approach never stops- they never waver. “I was intending to only bring back one lost asset to my associate- how pleased he’ll be when I come back with two.”

A knife that looks uncomfortably similar to a butcher’s blade suddenly appears in their hand and they leap forward. Julian grabs you and tumbles past them towards the door. When you get your baring, a streak of red flows openly down Julian’s cheek. The Quaesetor turns to continue their assault and Julian pushes you towards the open door.

“Go! Run! I’ll hold them off.” He says.

What? And leave him behind? You scowl. It would be too much- you care about him too much. You’re knocked to the side before you can protest and the Quaestor wrenches Julian’s head back to look at the mark glowing on his throat as his cut begins to heal. Their lips part in a sharky grin.

“Fascinating. Is this how you survived?” As they reach towards the mark, you barrel into them, knocking them off Julian.

“Don’t touch him.” You snarl, fierce feelings of protectiveness overwhelming the dread in your gut. You slash towards them, but they duck out of the way with inhuman speed, getting inside your guard. You feel a sharp pain in your gut just before the air is knocked out of you by a kick to the chest. You fall back towards the corpse, clutching your bleeding wound. The body folds limply onto your back and the Quasetor looms over you. Blood runs hot over your fingers, and the uncomfortable sensation sends a cold chill through you.

“A pity. Here I had been entertaining the idea that Doctor 69 might have allied himself with someone mildly interesting.” They lift the blade to your chest. Your heart pounds in your ears as their horrid face fills your vision. “Die.”

 

“FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET! BWEEEEET! BWEEEET!”

 

You don’t die. Instead, the Quesetor pauses, and turns to look at where the strange sound came from. You glimpse Saoirse in the doorway, tiny conch shell poised between their teeth.

“FWEEEEeeeeeeEEEEeeeEEEeeeEEEET!” They blow through the shell, and a fist cracks into the Quesetor’s head, sending them sprawling for the moment. Julian kneels before you, distraught, eye darting between your pained face and the wound oozing blood.

“Emsea! No, no, no no no no!” He reaches for you, mark flaring at his throat, but you grasp his wrist and shake your head no. If he’s weakened healing you, there’s no way you’ll both make it out. He grits his teeth and curses while he pulls you to your feet instead. Towards the door, Saoirse wrestles with and snaps their jaws at the felled Quesetor. As you stagger to your feet, you nod towards the corpse.

“Take it.” You grunt. “Whether we keep it or destroy it- we can’t let _them_ have it.” Julian glances towards where Saoirse has slipped back from the Quesetor’s grasp and starts backing out the door, borking. Before Valdemar can turn back to you and Julian, you push through the pain in your gut to bound towards them. You thrust your sword forward, not caring where you hit so long as you hit. But though the blade disappears into them, your mind struggles to comprehend that the blade has _literally_ disappeared into them. There is no resistance, no blood. Their form wavers for a moment, until black fog begins to pour out from around the sword, leaving only their Cheshire grin where the body once stood. When you look back towards Julian, he’s hefted the corpse onto his back and runs for the suddenly unblocked door.

“Let’s not stick around to see if they’re coming back.” Julian pants, and ushers you out the door.

As the night air chills your sweaty skin, the black fog fills the cabin behind you. Saoirse barks like a beacon to guide both of you back to the sloop, and as soon as you’re both safely on the other side, they nose the gangplank into the sea. Julian unceremoniously dumps the empty body to the ground and yanks a rope to free the sails. You collapse by the rudder as the warm trickle from your wound runs down your leg, exasperated by your brief foray into heroics.

As boat begins to slowly turn towards the open sea, you see the fog begin to coalesce back into a humanoid form. You grit your teeth and screw your eyes shut. This is it. You’ll never be able to make it through this deep of a stab _and_ make enough wind to get away. You’re going to die here, and worse, Julian will either go down with you, or be left to face whatever this demon has in store for him alone. You'll never get to tell him how much he's come to mean to you. It’s a sorrowful thought. You gag on nothing as your abdomen cramps around your wound.

You hear a thud, and open your eyes to see Julian, fallen to his knees, in front of you. Wordlessly, he reaches for your wound and the mark on his throat flashes. As the pain fades, you sit up straighter to look around. The dark fog nearly black as it takes on Valdemar’s shape, and you help Julian into a sitting position just before your wound reappears on him. Even so, he places a hand on the rudder.

“We have to go." He says. "Now!” He grimaces as pain and weariness battle within him. You leap to your feet, searching for your champion of a seal.

_Stronger together?_

_“Stronger together!”_

You meet Saoirse behind the sail and let the adrenaline pulsing through you spark the wind to life. The little boat lurches forward in the water so quickly it’s soon skipping over waves into the night. For a long while you just pour yourself and Saoirse into the magic, paying no heed to how far or how long you’ve been blowing. When you finally dare to look over your shoulder, the Floating Market is a line of fairy lights in the distance. All around you is dark and silent but the slow lap and tumble of small waves. You reach outwards with your magic, letting the wind die, and feel nothing following you, not even an empty darkness. Saoirse bumps your leg with their head.

“ _Was c_ _lose._ ”

_You were amazing._

“fweeet.” They poke you with their little conch between their teeth.

 

You force your heavy feet back towards the rudder where Julian is slumped, and slide in next to him. His hand is bloody from holding the wound he took from you, but you pay this no mind as he embraces you and you hold him back. He shudders and the weight of your brush with death comes crashing down like a cold rain. He told you to run, and instead you almost got yourself killed. You hug him tighter and kiss his ear.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, letting the tears slip down your cheek into his hair. You know why you didn’t listen to him, but the words to explain that can't come out quite yet.

“I just couldn’t leave you.” You say instead. He pushes himself back to look at you and you see mirrored tears on his cheeks.

“I-“ He tries, but a bout of sobbing over takes him. You hold him and bury your face in his shoulder while he struggles to regain his breath. He must be so tired. The sloop rocks gently in the water. Julian eventually eases back into sniffling.

“I know.” He says. “I really didn’t want you to leave, but I-I was terrified of what they might do to you.” He takes a deep breath, and even in the dark of the night, you can feel his gaze on the hole still left in your shirt.

“ What they _did_ do to you. Quesetor Valdemar… they were my boss when I was working on a cure for the Red Plague. I’ve seen them walk into rooms filled with the dying and damned with a smile on their face, excited by the idea of having more plague riddled corpses to dissect.” He sighs, and his hands move over your arms in a slow rub. His distaste for Valdemar seems to ground him now that the threat has past. “They don’t see patients as people, only as new subjects to study.”

“They’re a Doctor?” You ask.

“More like a butcher, but even a butcher recognizes there’s an animal before there’s meat.” He sighs, and glances around the dark water. “We’re thankfully far from it all now.”

You nod, settling in against him. It could be the fatigue, but when you do a final sweep with your magic for any sign you’re being tailed, the direction the sloop is drifting in the water feels…. like there's a pull to it. Like the air is a littler warmer and smells sweet. 

_Saoirse. Can you tell the Captain where to find us? That we're okay?_

 

You hear a soft 'toot-toot' of acknowledgement, and splash off the side of the boat. Julian stirs slightly against you.

“Saoirse is going to tell Mazelinka where to meet us and that we’re okay.” You say, curling your fingers into his cool hair. You yawn. “I’ll put a warding spell on the boat, and then I think we should go into the cabin and try to sleep.” He rubs his face into your chest and sighs.

“You know I’m just near enough to collapsing that sounds like a good idea.” He murmurs. When you both stand, his eye falls on the bloated, pale body still lying on the deck.

“We should probably do something about our guest.” He says. Together, you shift the empty corpse into a deck box, and slowly walk hand in hand around the railing of the boat. You trace runes with your fingers and feel very sleepily smug for having taken the time to memorize them.

The sloop’s small cabin is even more welcoming than the last time you saw it, and neither of you undress in any manner before collapsing onto the mattress. Julian is asleep in your arms the moment he’s horizontal, but you lie awake a little while longer, listening to him breath. Your spine tingles slightly at how close you came to never hearing that sound again. You cuddle in closer to him, warm and growing steadily surer of certain uncomfortable things. Of why you couldn’t leave when he asked you to. Of the words you aren’t quite ready to say... but thinking them should be okay

_I love you._

_I’m so happy you’re safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll. YA'LL. ya'll.  
> Way back in chapter one, I was just looking to provide a bit of cheeky pirate themed eventual smut that I hadn't found elsewhere in the fandom. I figured I'd get maybe 2 or 3 chapters in and burn out on it. Then you goobers responded with such positivity and praise to a story that I wrote basically for myself. I felt and continue to feel real honored. 
> 
> That being said, I think we're getting close to the end. I won't put a definite cap on the chapters, but I think we'll be wrapping up in another 2-3. 
> 
> love, and butterfly kisses


	11. three idiots climb a mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang, at last, reaches their destination. Relationships are tested as our heroes are pushed to their limits- will their love stand the test of time????????????????????

It’s the dead of night when you finally reach the island. Saoirse slips into the dark water, seeking out the treacherous coral reef that boarders the bay. Their form disappears beneth the surface, and a twist of anxiety pinches your gut. The idea of coming this far only to wreck on the coral… you push it from your mind. You try to push it from your mind.

“ _Here! Here! Here!”_.

_Is the reef shorter there?_

_“Reef less tall!.”_ You hear a splash not too far away and reach out for Saoirse’s presence. You take a deep breath to try and calm the roiling waves in your stomach.

“Saoirse found a spot to get through.” You say, body stiff as you stare at where you think Saoirse indicated. You know Julian is somewhere on the deck, but the lanterns have burned so low that even looking around, you don’t see him.

“You ready?” You say into the air. “I’m going to surge the water under the ship, you should probably hold onto something-“ You’re cut off as Julian’s arms come around your shoulders in a loving embrace. You feel his chest push against your back in a slow, calm, breath, and the panic in your mind settles a bit.

“I meant something _stable_.” You huff, but your fingers grip his arm regardless.

“I can think of nothing I find more grounding to hold.” He says into your ear and presses his head to your’s. The gesture warms you. At least if you do sink, you’ll sink together.

You free your arms from Julian’s grasp and summon your magic to the waters around the sloop. You surge it back and forth until you feel the momentum behind the waves, and add a current from below just as the sloop careens toward the island. You feel a drop in your stomach as the boat glides down into the bay, and Julian’s arms tighten around your waist, but you didn’t hear any scraping on the hull. The water ripples away from the small ship, and you hear the sounds of Saoirse’s joyous leaps into the air.

_“Wheeeeeeee! Home!”_

You let out a deep breath and lean back into Julian. He kisses your cheek. You smile and let him hold you until the anticipation of getting to shore make you fidgety.

“Julian?” You pat his arms to be released. He quickly retreats.

“Right. Sorry. Got a little to comfortable there.”

The sloop lazes towards the shore, and a tingle runs through you as you feel the now familiar welcoming sensation from the Island. On a whim, you reach out behind you too, and shiver at the slightest chill of darkness, far, far away.

“Well,” Julian comes to stand beside you. “Certainly less eventful than our first foray.” You shake your head and elbow him affectionately. Even withstanding a head wound or evil magical influence, you’re guardedly confident; this time things will be better. You can wield your magic effectively now- if there is something dangerous here, you won’t go down without a hell of a fight. Julian starts to slide his arm around your waist, but he hesitates.

“So, lay anchor here or go around?” He says. “Awaiting your orders, Captain.”

You glance from Julian, shrouded in the night beside you, to the Island, stark against the starry sky before you. As the sloop drifts closer, there seem to be stars dotting the bay as well.

“What is that?” You say and leave Julian standing alone. You look over the railing, excitement and curiosity urging you on; little bits of light bob and flash just under the surface. You can’t make them out exactly, but they’re far more concentrated towards the shore. Julian joins you after a moment.

“Well.” He murmurs. “That certainly didn’t happen the last time we were here. Maybe we should stay out in the bay tonight? And find out what these are in the morning?” You notice the nervous undertone to his voice, but you’ve only just arrived. You don’t want to go to bed quite yet, not when something strange and new has just appeared.

“Maybe Saoirse can see what they are?” You say.

He drums his fingers on the railing. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” You cover his hand with your own and squeeze it.

“Are you alright?” You say. He turns to you for a moment, his pale skin able to catch the last bits of light as the lanterns flicker feebly. He’s frozen, aghast at how quickly you’ve called him out. You reach up to touch his cheek, cold from the night air. He slowly leans into your palm before sighing and holding it there.

“I’m just nervous.” He says. “I know we’re prepared, but I can’t stop thinking about the time before. You were missing for three days, and I didn’t have any way to find you. ” The look he gives you is not one you were prepared for, eerily close to how he looked right after the fight with Valdemar. Guilt spikes through you, and you hug him. He squeezes you tight. There must be some appropriate way to respond to this, but it escapes you. You’re still contending with the knowledge of how deep your feelings for him go, and you don’t know if that’s changed something.

 

_Saoirse, what’s in the water?_

_“SO MANY TURTLE!!”_

That’s just what you needed. You stifle a laugh against Julian, and he releases you. Your mouth hangs open for a moment, as you rush to determine what to say under his pinched face.

“…It’s turtles.” You say with an awkward smile. He looks mildly confused, but that’s better than crying. “The lights in the water.” You add. “They’re sea turtles.”

You turn back to look over the railing and Julian follows at your side. Your skin prickles from the tension radiating off of him. It’s like if he had the chance, he’d turn the boat around never look back.

“Let’s go to the shore, just for a look.” You say, and take his hand again, hoping he'll get past this for you. How many of your adventures cause him some level of grief? Between the magic and the general element of danger… He takes a deep breath.

“…Okay.” He gives you a small smile, and steps back to the rudder. You chew the inside of your cheek, wondering if there could be something sinister at work causing this uncomfortable feeling between you two. You let your magic reach out towards the island, but still you only feel welcome and curiosity about your approach. Are you just rushing headlong into a mistake like last time? The thought fills you with dread, and you wrestle with your heart as to what it all means. This is why you’ve never been one for relationships and love. What are you supposed to do when you want the person you love to change?

 

Your feet hit the shallows with a splash, and you haul on a rope to help guide the sloop. It fits snugly into the wet sand. Julian joins you, but before you can say anything to him, you’re overwhelmed. Slowly and then all at once, clusters of tiny, glowing turtles emerge from the sand. They trail towards the sea, flipper over flipper, and you grab Julian’s hand and break into a run to get a better look.

“Come on!” You drag him along behind you, hearing the muffled thumping of your boots in the sand. You slow to a stop as a scattering of turtles scoots past. Lights dance and swirl across their shells like someone’s painted them. There are too many to even try to count- but then there’s something else. Another glowing creature skitters across the sand, and pincers a turtle before it can react. A crab. You crouch to the ground, surveying the beach. All along the shore, individuals are cut down while others continue on and are swept into the sea. It’s life, you remind yourself.

“Survival of the fittest, I suppose.” You hear Julian say, standing above you with his arms crossed. You watch as hundreds, thousands of baby turtles run the gauntlet for their lives. No hesitation, no choice. But clearly some will make it.

“Why didn’t we see them further out?” He asks. “There must be some that made it deeper into the bay.” You stand, appreciating how closely his thought process has mirrored your own. Saoirse approaches, and Julian startles at the sight of them.

“…Wow.” He says.

Down their back, dapples glow the same teals and blues you saw many months ago. You reach down and stroke them, relishing how the illumination shifts and brightens under your fingers. Magic hums between your fingers and their skin, easing the growing knot in your heart.

“I think it’s the Island.” You say, and Saoirse nuzzles into your hand for scritches. “Maybe the glow only happens when they’re exposed to enough magic.” You say. Julian shifts his weight in the sand, eyes darting over Saoirse.

“Really? So has Saoirse always glowed?” He says, and gingerly reaches out to touch them. They eagerly seek out further scritches and grumble happily in their chest.

“Not always.” You say, thinking back. “I think last time I only saw it once.” You trail off. You squat back down and watch the turtles while Julian indulges the seal. Saoirse eventually shuffles off for further re-acquainting with their home, and Julian eases down into the sand. You both remain quiet, not touching each other, watching little lights being snuffed out while others continue on. A warm breeze brushes past you, offering comfort and encouragement. You’ve always avoided uncomfortable situations. The problem with love, as far as you’ve known it, is that it eclipses everything else: goals, fears, self-fulfillment. But you _do_ love him. How else could you have gotten here?

“I…” You begin, and Julian looks at you. You swallow and look straight ahead, picking a turtle and keeping your eyes on it. “I’msorrybeinghere…. frightens you.” You shut your lips to get a better control over your words. The beach feels very big while you speak from your heart. “But I need to be here, and I need you to support me.”

The turtle shuffles along as its siblings and cousins meet with either success or death. It finally reaches the water and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “This is part of who I am- not even the magic, just, sometimes things aren’t perfectly safe.” Julian shuffles closer to you.

“Emsea, I want to be clear, I’m not worried we’re going into something _you_ can’t handle.” He says. You meet his eyes, but he’s barely able to hold your gaze. “I..I’m…”

He closes his eyes and swallows. “…worried _I_ won’t be able to handle it. And I don’t want you to change, I just…” He trails off, and you scoot closer to him and lean on his shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt on your skin.

“I can’t forgive myself for lots of things.” He says. “I don’t think I’d be able to if something happened to you.” He pauses. “And on a personal level, the magical aspect of this doesn’t help.” He adds with a grimace. You sigh against him, trying to come up with a way to reassure him. All the while, his arm comes to rest on your shoulders. The turtle you had been following is now gently bobs in the water, free. It suddenly disappears in a cloud of black ink, gone, just like that. You press your face more firmly into him.

“I think that’s just life.” You say, muffled. You look back to his face. He looks terribly distressed, but some things just…are distressing. “There’s only been a handful of people I’ve ever been worried about losing.” You say, and he blinks and listens. “Mazelinka, Kaya…” You shrug, sitting up to better face him. “The fewer people I care about, the less I have to loose.” He watches you and nods ever so slightly. You continue and take his hand. You take a deep breath before you continue. The truth doesn’t come easily to a pirate, you think with a smirk. “But any amount of hurt I might go through if something happens to you…” You pull his hand and press it over your heart. “It would still be worth all that suffering to get to feel how I feel about you right now.” You say. He looks at you, awestruck for a moment before he pulls you into an embrace. You push your face into his neck and breath him in. He’s impossibly strong in your arms. When you finally part, still holding each other’s hands, a small tear glints from under his eye. You can feel your own fighting to get out, but you could really use one win tonight.

“I know.” He says, and clears his throat of the excess of emotions. “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade our time together for anything.” He smiles at you. “I know I can’t protect you from the world.” He says, and combs his fingers through your hair and he cups your face. He smiles, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re sure there’s no evil influence here right now? Nothing making us into even bigger messes than usual?”

You laugh, relief flooding through you.

“I’m sure.” You say. “We’re naturally huge messes.” He nods and brings his other hand to your face and pulls you in to kiss you. It’s soft, laden with fear and joy and all the wonders of caring for someone else. He pauses, an inch from you, and presses his lips into a thin line.

“…I love you.” He says, quickly. “You don’t have to say it back, but I hope that’s okay.”

You freeze, only for a moment, the words struggling to find purchase in you mind. You swear you feel your pupils shrink. His declaration doesn’t so much settle in your heart as bounce around it like a bottle rocket. It’s joy, it’s relief, it’s confirmation and ravenous hunger. This is what it’s about- this must be the feeling that makes the risk worth it.

You surge forwards and kiss him. Julian jolts in surprise, but quickly has his arms wrapped around you while you tangle your hands his hair, nearly knocking him back onto the sand. _I love you._ You kiss him again and again, the words screaming in your mouth but refusing to come to your tongue- just as well, your tongue is busy. You feel like an idiot- how long have you known this is true? What did it start? You part, hoping your deeply engrained need not be outdone will blast the sentiment out of you.

“I-“

Your throat catches. It almost feels like drowning again, but you swallow and your mouth just hangs open. “I-“ You hover an inch from his face, his breath on your lips.

What the fuck?

“I-“ You try again, but your jaw clamps shut. You sit back on your knees, feeling a chill creep up your spine as you will the phrase to be spoken, to no avail. Julian looks at you, full of concern.

“Darling, it’s okay.” He says gently, “it’s okay to not say it back.” You shake your head vigorously and grit your teeth, looking at him desperately, almost insulted he would think you don’t feel the same. But then again, do you? All the time spent turning feelings like this away- how could you?

“No, I-“ You feel your tongue try to form the sounds, but then it just twists up and you feel a hard lump where your voice should be. You touch your face, hoping you’ll find some anomaly that would explain this. You feel the heat in your eyes and punch down at the sand, beginning to shake.

“Dammit!“ You grind your teeth punch the sand again. The sand stings against your knuckles while tears dive down your cheeks. You’re about to go back in for another strike when Julian grabs your hands and pulls your attention back to him.

“Emsea!” He says, and your face twists up as you try to force the words out again.

“I lhuuuuhg-” But they won’t come, instead you feel yourself almost get nauseous. He holds your shoulders, keeping you with him.

“Why can’t I say it?” You blubber, trembling. “I want to say it- I-I-I can’t say it.” You collapse forward, like the ground has dropped out from under you, grabbing his shirt to stop the descent, dropping your head through your arms.

“Why can’t I say it??”

Julian pulls you closer and you quickly fold into the comfort of his arms. You feel your heart pounding in your head with your love for him- why can’t you let him hear?

“Emsea, it’s okay.” He says, stroking up and down your back.

“It’s NOT.” You shout down at the sand. All the strife, all the feeling weak and exposed, learning the compromise and empathy, was it all a waste?

“I’ve been working so hard to change,” You sob. “it’s been _so hard_ to change and I can’t even say it!” You feel your nose thick with snot, and quickly rub your sleeve across your weeping face. What a picture you are. You feel his fingers gently stroking your hair, his hand steady on your back while you cry yourself out.

 

“….do you want to say it?” He says carefully. You nod against him.

“So much.” You say, and then shake your head angrily. “But I can’t. I can’t and I’m so frustrated.” He hugs you tighter, softening the painful ache in your heart and your head.

 

“FWEEEEeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeEEEEEET!!!!”

Saoirse lumbers across the beach, tooting their little conch, and scattering crabs while baby turtles race to the finish. You glance up to be distracted by the scene. The turtles, in fact, are just as frightened as the crabs. One by one, little bobbing lights plunk into the shallows. You wipe your face again. Not all of them will make it, you think grimly. There are octopi, and fish. Even if they make it past the predators, there’s still everything that lives on the reef and the ocean beyond. You rest your cheek on Julian’s shoulder and feel yourself growing a little calmer again with the passage of time.

“Thank you.” You murmur into him. He kisses the side of your head. Your chest aches with the desire to put words to how you feel. _I love you._ Your fingers twist into his clothes. He pats your back and brings you up to face him.

“I don’t know if this helps but, even if you don’t say it, I think you’ve made it more than clear how you feel.” He says with a small smile. The light fades with the departure of the turtles, and you laugh darkly.

“Great.” You say, smiling despite your bitter tone. “I’ll just have a breakdown every time I’d rather just say it.”

“I’m sure we can find some way to get it out of you.” He gives you a grin and leans closer. You snort and roll your eyes. “Certain things tend to slip out in great moments of passion, and you’re very versed in those.”

“I know.” You admit, giving in for a second to waggle your brow back at him. You let your eyes fall towards the sand, feeling very tired by it all. There’s so much still to be done, so much to come

“I think right now I just want to be mad about this.” You say. Julian nods.

“Okay.” He gives you a sweet kiss, not asking for anything more, just an acknowledgement. “Did you want to get anything prepared before we call it a night?” You think for a moment.

“We should figure out how to move the corpse. I want to bring it with us tomorrow.” You say. You both get up, and dust the sand from your bottoms. Saoirse comes back, tooting with every bounding step. It certainly doesn’t _help_ the headache. Together, you and Julian go about the strenuous task of hoisting the seal back up onto the deck.

~~~~~

 

It’s hot and humid the following morning, and by the time your party makes it a mile into the forest, you’re drenched in sweat. Julian trudges on like a champ, pulling the bloated figure behind him on a mat of woven tropical leaves. The leaf-litter on the forest floor makes for a smooth drag, but an adult sized dead weight is still heavy. You take turns pulling, walking, and hacking foliage for hours behind Saoirse, who glances back every so often to ensure that you’re both still there. At around the third hour, the path begins a steep incline, and you all take a mutual pause at the base of the mountain.

Julian wipes sweat from his face. He looks as tired as you feel, eyes falling half closed in the heat. Strangely, or maybe not, the corpse is no worse for wear- still pallid and cool to the touch. You frown at the twisting path ahead. Julian follows your gaze.

“You’re thinking we won’t be able to pull it the rest of the way?” He says. You shake your head, wet hair flinging across your face.

“It’s not walking past this point, it’s climbing. We could take turns carrying it?” You say. Julian crosses his arms, thinking. His eyes dart from you to the corpse, and just when you’re about to angrily accuse him of thinking you won’t be able to lift it-

“… could you animate it?” He says.

“ _What?”_ You say, taking your turn to look from the corpse to him. “I can’t bring it to life.” You say plainly. He shakes his head.

“But you wouldn’t have to, right? It just needs to follow us, like a big puppet.” He pushes his hair back from his face. “Creepy, I know. And I’m not sure exactly how these things work, but it’s a thought.” He flushes slightly. You feel yourself smiling wide at him. Your Julian, suggesting you try magic all on his own! You ponder in your muggy mind how something like a puppet spell might work.

“I might be able to make it work, but I don’t know how much energy it would take.” You say. “Saoirse could probably help.” You look to the seal, who is flopped over on their back in the shade of a leafy tree. You look back to Julian, and chew your lip a moment.

“… If it winds up taking too much energy, it could leave me in pretty bad shape.” You say, and he nods slowly. It isn’t like you’ve got a better idea. You walk over to Saoirse and lay a hand on their tummy, at which they grunt.

_I need to borrow your magic._

_“Stronger together?”_

You nod, and Saoirse rolls over to waddle after you. You take a twig and draw out your thoughts for the spell in the dirt, recalling what you know of conjuring magical ropes or thread while also considering elements of the linking sensations spells. Julian watches over your shoulder, asking occasional questions about the runes you draw as you begin to design a scaffolding to aid the spell.

“It’s like a machine? Sort of?” You say. “The things in the circles tell the magic how to behave, and then all I have to focus on is keeping the flow going.” You say as you lay a hand on Saoirse’s back, which begins to give off a bit of luminance where you press.

“So if the circle and symbols get copied down, could anyone replicate this?” Julian asks.

“They would need to have an idea of the intent of the spell too. Otherwise certain bits might get too much energy.” You blush and look aside, reluctantly sheepish. “Like how I used to freeze things I just meant to cool down a little.”

Julian smiles. “Well, lets give this a go then. Is there anything I can help with? Or?” He trails off, and your heart sings with affection. His cheeks color slightly under your beaming face. He’s trying.

“Put your hand on Saoirse’s back, and I’ll be able to use your energy too.” You say. “That way it won’t be such a risk.” You see him flex his hands a few times and take a deep breath before laying his hand on Saoirse’s back beside yours. You smile at him, placing your other hand in the soft dirt. “Thank you, Julian.” You say.

“I havn’t done anything yet.” He says quickly.

“You have.” You insist, and begin to draw on your loved ones’ energies to begin the spell. Julian’s eyes go wide as Saorise’s back begins to glow under his palm, but he doesn’t move. You feel the wisps of magic reach out towards the empty corpse, and adhere to different points of its body. At first, it seems like you’re just pouring magic into a sink, when suddenly you feel a sort of _snap_ as Saorise’s magic flows more freely. They take a step forward under you hand, and you watch their eyes narrow and their chest balloon in and out with each breath. Seamlessly, as though awakening from a deep sleep, the corpse rises.

You hear Julian gasp, but he doesn’t waver. Saoirse, however, shimmies out from under your hands to meet the walking figure in the clearing. They stare up at it, transfixed as though they were meeting royalty. You glance to Julian and absentmindedly take his now free hand. He gives you a squeeze.

“…Did it work?” He asks. You watch as Saoirse leans back and forth, with the corpse eerily mirroring them. They turn to face you, as the corpse brings its head up. Both nod.

_“Together.”_

“It worked.” You sigh, relaxing just a moment to take stock of how you’re feeling. Despite what you know to have been a rather complex incantation, you don’t feel any more tired than before. You ponder if having Julian and Saoirse’s help was a bigger boon than you thought. Saoirse and the body start towards the mountain without another word.

“Saoirse?” You say, a little spooked at the sight of the formerly dead weight up and about with your partner. They look back at you, black eyes glinting with mischief. They take off rather quickly for a seal, flanked by the corpse at every turn. You scramble to your feet.

“Hey!” Julian exclaims as the pair disappear from view. You grab his hand and pull him along, chasing them up the mountian without a second thought.

“Come on, we can’t loose them!” You say.

_Saoirse? Slow down!_

Up and up you climb, occasionally hacking thick vines aside, carefully leaping over roots and vegetation that sullies the path. You slow considerably when you come to a section of stone that becomes a sheer assent, but the sight of Saoirse and the body racing further on above you pushes you and Julian hand over hand up the rocky slate. Another hour into the treacherous climb over rock walls and muggy forest, things start to look familiar and you slow. Julian stops short behind you, panting.

“What’s wrong?” He gasps.

“I’ve- _whew-_ I’ve seen this before.” You pant, swallow, and speak again. “There’s going to be a drop off ahead.” You pause, lungs burning, recalling how your dream came to an end.

“… And a waterfall. That’s as far as I ever got.” You say. Julian nods, panting beside you. He grimaces.

“And I’m sure there’s a zip line or gondola waiting to take us gently across this obstacle?” He says, exhausted. You glance at him and he continues to stare ahead. You wonder if he’s reaching his limit for what he can handle and push down the bit of frustration that bubbles up in you. He’s pushing himself to even be here with you. Getting mad won’t help.

“Hey.” You grasp his shoulder. He turns to look at you, a bit surprised. “I…” You loose the breath, and briefly panic that words have abandoned you again. You shut your eyes and take a new breath. “….Thank you, for doing all of this.” You say on an exhale. Julian’s posture softens and he nods.  
“Of course.” He says. “I can’t say I’m confident about where this is going, but I trust you.” He leans down to kiss you. “Lead on, my darling.” His trust reinvigorates you, and together you push onward into the dense foliage. You try to listen for the sound of rushing water, but all is quiet but the sound of your feet on the sandier ground

 

“ _Finally._ _Come on! We’re nearly there!”_

_….Saoirse?_

You stop in your tracks, a chill running through you. Julian bumps into you and looks immediately concerned at whatever face you’re making.

“Emsea?” He says, but you just stare ahead of yourself. He puts a hand on your shoulder and you clasp it.

_Saoirse? Where are you?_

_“At the bottom already, slowpoke!”_ You close your mouth in a frown.

_…why didn’t you wait?_

_“I did ;P You’ll see!”_

You shiver under Julian’s hand.

“Emsea, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Julian says, taking both your shoulders. You snap out of your stupor to see the rising panic in his eyes. You nod.

“Saoirse went on ahead. We need to keep going.” You take a few steps and pause, the eerie tickle in your mind lingering. “They sounded… different.”

“Different?” Julian asks, but you push on ahead, shoving leaves out of your way. Why did they talk that way?

_Saoirse!_

You duck under a curtain of leaves and suddenly find yourself back-peddling on the steep, sandy banks of a river. Julian’s arms come around you and pull you back onto more solid ground, but before he can scold you, you’re both dumbstruck by the figure standing in the middle of the river, seemingly unaffected by the rapids.

What was once a pale figure following behind your seal, is now alone. A nebula of blues, teals, and purples colors and shifts over their skin. They’re shorter now, almost your height, whereas before it nearly matched Julian. Julian hugs you tight to his chest and backs away from the bank.

“What the hell is _that?”_ He says, and you shake your head dumbly.

“I don’t know- I don’t-“

_SAOIRSE? WHERE ARE YOU?_

You hear no reply and your heart pounds in horror for your friend. The figure begins to approach, sinking deeper into the raging river. As they come closer, you swear for a moment you see the beginnings of facial features, but before you can make them out any better, the figure allows the current to suck them under.

“NO!” You yell and try to leap from Julian’s arms.

“Emsea! Calm down! Think for a moment!” He hisses in your ear. You twist in his arms, trying to break free. Not now. You can’t loose them now. Not when you’ve come this far.

“Julian- let go- we have to save them!”

“What _them?_ Whatever that thing was or is, it isn’t Saoirse, and it isn’t worth you dashing yourself on the rocks over!” He holds you fast, and as you turn to him glaring, you feel a soft tug on your pants leg. You look down, and leaning on the shore below you- is the figure. You wrest yourself from Julian’s grasp and he takes a step back when he notices the hand at your leg. The figure’s skin shimmers bright teals and pinks as it reaches up towards you, offering their hand. You stare down at them, blood pounding in your ears just louder than the white water. Their face seems molded but incomplete- as much animalistic as human looking. You can make out the beginnings of lips set to curl into a mischievous smile. You reach towards them, feeling in your gut that somehow this being means you no harm, that there’s so much left to discover here, so much yet to be learned…

Julian’s arms pull you back again. The being carefully retracts their hand and watches from the surging water, patient. They fold their arms and rest their head upon them. Julian pulls you around to face him, distraught.

“Emsea, you can’t.” He pleads. “Following Saoirse is one thing but we don’t even know if that thing is the same one we brought here.” He gestures to it warily. “It’s a different size. It’s a different color!” You grip his arms, forcing yourself to think. He’s right, but despite all of that, you can’t shake the feeling that this is it. This is what your whole journey has been leading to. You shake your head, and your heart twists at the thought of jumping into the water without him. You look up at him, desperate. You can’t think of something more terrifying to ask of him than this. It might all be too much for him, but does that mean you don’t still love him more than anyone else in the world?

“Julian, please trust me.” You say, the roar of the river now loud around you. Julian looks aghast, from the figure, to the river, to you.

“I don’t like this.” He says, shaking his head. “What if there’s another way down? Can’t we look for another way down?” He says, and you twist your mouth and just keep looking up at him. This is how it is. There are some things you can’t change. He takes a deep breath. “There are horrible things after you. We both know it. What if this is one of them?” He says, and you hug him tight, recalling the terror you both felt fleeing for your lives not long ago. You’ve felt nothing of that here, you remind yourself. Even now, the figure below you slaps the wet sand under their palms to the freshest of beats, thought it’s drowned out by the rapids. You wish for something to reassure Julian, anything so let him know it will be okay.

_“There is another way down, but this way is far more fun.”_

You turn quickly to scan the water for Saoirse, but it’s just the river you see. A large wave approaches and you back away from the shore, pushing Julian behind you. Finally, your eyes fall back on the nebulous figure, whose fingers tickle towards you in a small goodbye.

_“See you at the bottom, Emsea.”_

The water crashes into the shape and they’re swept away. You slowly walk back towards the water, and pointedly ignore a protest from Julian as you plunge your hand into the water, reaching out with your magic. You search for any feelings of negativity, but all you sense is… rejoicing? Excitement? If only you could show Julian what’s truly here….

_“WA-HOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”_

You look up to Julian.

“I won’t make you go in the water, but please will you al least touch it?” You say. Julian shifts uncomfortably.

“Just touch it?” He says. “And then we’ll go look somewhere else?” You turn back to the water.

“I heard a voice say there’s another way down.” You say. You hear Julian groan. hhhMMMMMMMMM ALTERNATE ROUTES DON’T SOUND SO GOOD WHEN THEY COME FROM A DISEMBODIED VOICE, DO THEY MY DUDE???

“Okay. Okay.” He shakes out his hand and you make a little room next to you. With your bodies pressed together, you can feel him trembling slightly and take his hand. You take a few deep breaths to guide him, and let your magic flow into him as you plunge both your hands into the water. He tenses at the sensation, but after a moment seems to calm down.

“What does it feel like?” You ask him.

“Water.” He says shortly.

“Julian.” You say, growing a bit impatient. It’s so close. You do love him, but you know you’re so close. He chews his cheek for a moment.

“It feels like… well… you.” He says. You lean into him and rub your cheek on his shoulder, hoping that somehow, he’ll understand.

_I love you._

He runs his thumb over your fingers and lets out a breath.

“And this?” You let your magic fall away and the feelings of the river flow freely over your skin. You smile at the bright feelings of investigation, curiosity at this new person. You feel Julian jump a little beside you, but when you look over at him, his mouth is slightly agape, wordless.

“It… well. I’m not sure how to describe it. Is this something you’re doing?” He says. You shake your head.

“ You’re feeling the essence of this place’s magic.” You explain. “Does it feel evil to you?”

Julian holds your hand in the water a moment longer and finally shakes his head.

“No.” He says, and sits up on the bank, shaking the water from his hand. He ponders a moment and looks at you, expression serious. “And back at the Market, where we ran into Valdemar, that didn’t feel like this? That was... different?” He asks. You nod quickly.

“Extremely.” You say, and feel a shift in the river at the name. Anger. Disgust. Frustration. “And I don’t think they’re gone, they just aren’t what’s pulling the strings here. Maybe a long time ago, but not now.” You wipe your damp hand on your leg. “Whatever’s here now… it wants to be found.” You say, and Julian stands, helping you up as well. He looks over the water and squeezes your hand tighter.

“You certainly know how to test my limits.” He says with a sigh. You look up at him, smiling gently.

“It might even be fun.” You offer, and he grinds his teeth.

“Oh yes, being splattered on rocks hundreds if not thousands of feet below sounds _wonderful.”_

He turns towards the bank, still holding your hand.

“So?” He asks, staring at the water. “We’re really doing this?”

“You can look for the other way down if you want.” You remind him. You know he’s terrified. You don’t expect him not to be, but even if he does look for another way down, you’ll still love him all the same. But he looks at you with half a smile and pulls you in close to him.

“And miss out on the adrenaline rush of a lifetime? I always thought I’d go out with a splash.” He says, and together you hop into the river. The cool water engulfs you and you hold fast to Julian as you both bob to the surface, treading nothing as the current sweeps you towards the sky. He spits water from his mouth and holds you tighter, a moment of panic flashing over his face again. There’s only one thing for that. You grab his face and kiss him roughly. His hand comes to the back of your head while the other remains tight around your waist. He moans loudly into your mouth, overjoyed for the distraction. You feel your heart pound and your stomach drop as for a moment, there’s nothing but you and Julian floating in the air. You suck in a breath and stare into Julian’s eyes. He smiles wildly at you and together you plummet into the opaque white spray below, screaming your fucking lungs out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll, it's me. Ya boi. 
> 
> This chapter sat on my desktop for quite a while due to depression doing that thing it does where it makes you not want to do the things you like doing. Every time I come back to this fic I remember why I like working on it. 
> 
> Next chapter will either be the last or second to last depending on where the closing sequence falls. Thanks for reading this far, and if you skipped ahead, I bet you're confused as all get out.
> 
> love, and butterfly kisses


	12. Character Development: The Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The culmination of a journey is markedly underwhelming. New yet old faces rear their surprisingly attractive heads, and two crazy kids love and support each other, even though that's hard sometimes.

Julian’s back hits the surface of the water as though it were solid stone. His body convulses under you and seeing _hurts._ The air from his lungs floats past your eyes.

_ Saoirse! _

You feel your chest constrict as Julian’s eyes stare dumbly back at you, half lidded and unfocused. Saoirse should have been waiting for you- _they said they were waiting for you!_

_ Saoirse! Help! _

Your desperate thoughts are met by a steady grip on your arm. You turn to look, and your seal’s familiar face gives you a brief reprieve from your panic. They nudge you and Julian apart and cool water reaches all the places Julian had shielded you. The creature with the familiar face is not your seal.

Dark arms encircle your lover. Legs tangled in a traveler’s robe kick him towards the surface.

_ Saoirse? _

The figure glances over their shoulder at you, a smile coy on their lips under eyes sparkling with mischief. You rake your arms through the water, desperately following them.

You find soft black sand under your palm, and as you crawl from the sparkling water, you find yourself panting under an unfamiliar black sky. The trees look tropical and the air is tepid. You pull yourself to your feet and scramble to where the figure kneels by an unmoving Julian.

“Is he alive?” You fall to your knees and shake him none too gently. “He has to be alive.”

You press your head to his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear. Your shoulders shake with the shudder of your exhale. “He’s alive.” You see the faint rise and fall of his soaked clothes and feel the weight of your love ease. “He’s alive.”

The figure reaches across Julian’s form and rests a hand over yours. You watch the pigment of their skin erupt in spots of color everywhere you touch. Your eyes widen, moving from their hand, to their familiar face. They watch you, tense with impatience.

You bring both hands to their forearm, watching in quiet wonder as the colors move and respond to the pressure of your touch.

“Saoirse?” You whisper. The figure shakes their head gently.

“Not anymore.” They say with a soft smile. Their voice has the cadence of a child, but the weight of a seasoned traveler. “Quite suitably, it would seem, most people refer to me as The Fool.” They laugh high from their head and you wonder at the calm it brings to your mind: a steadfast wonder at the world, wanderlust with the embrace of a never-ending journey. You glance to Julian, still laying quiet in the sand, but alive.

“Best give him a moment to recover.” Says The Fool. “No doubt he’s going to have a sort of… reaction to this.” They give you a wink. Your heart thumps heavier and heavier in your chest. If this isn’t Saoirse, then you still have things to worry about. You glance around the shimmering beach where you sit. Purple, green, and orange palms mark the edge of a vast forest. Motes of light float among them like pollen. Down the shore, you see the round bodies of seals playing in the surf. You stand and bring your hands to your mouth.

“SAOIRSE!” Your voice warbles and is swallowed by the sounds of the surf. The colony of seals takes no notice of your call, and continue about their rolly-polly business. You turn back to the figure.

“Where are they?” You say. “Where are _we_?” The Fool stands, brushing dark, plush sand from their robes.

“This is the realm of The Magician,” They explain. “a colleague of mine, you might say.” They take a few steps down the beach. For a moment, they stand quietly, breathing, whiskers twitching slightly. Suddenly, a single seal breaks from the colony like a wobbly shot. You squint at the amorphous creature scooting towards you as fast as they can, and the sharp tenor of their bark sends you running to meet them.

“bORK!”

You nearly miss each other, though Saoirse is quick to turn about, grumbling and whining until you fall into their form, laughing and shaking.

“You’re here! You’re okay! But how? Why…?”

_ Why aren’t you saying anything? _

The seal looks at you curiously, tilting their head before nuzzling you for more cuddles and rubs. Their skin remains the same mottled dark of their kin, and you glance up to see The Fool standing over you, smiling.

“Thank you. Did you..?” You say, still petting the happily humming critter. The Fool shakes their head.

“I didn’t. They came through the portal, same as you and the Doctor.” They say, kneeling and stroking the seal’s blubbery skin. “Though they extended aid to me long ago when I most needed it.” You smile and let the huffing breaths of your friend ground you. You consider The Fool. Their calm, wistful presence so familiar.

“It was you who was guiding me.” You say. The Fool watches you, smiling warmly.

“It was you who saved me.” They say easily. You snort.

“As if I had any idea what I was doing. It just felt right….. what exactly did I do?”

“Let’s return to your Doctor first, he should be stirring soon.” You nod, suddenly remembering you left Julian lying prone on a magic beach. You trot back over to him, black sand being tossed with each step and Saoirse hot at your heels.

 

“Ilya?” You lean over him, as his mouth works on nothing and his eyes scrunch with returning consciousness. Finally, they settle open.

“Emsea!” He says, and Saoirse flops down onto him, groaning and rolling onto their back. “OOF. And Saoirse. So good to see you’re here too.” You laugh and urge the beast off Julian’s chest. They roll off of him and plop back into the sand. You help Julian to sit up and shake some of the sand from his clothes as he takes in the surroundings. As you smooth and shake his garments, his face goes from relief to a strained worry.

“Certainly the strangest waterfall I’ve been over.” He turn to you, eyes wide. “Wait, are we dead?”

“We’re not dead.” You say plainly, though you glance to The Fool for confirmation.

“Quite extraordinarily alive.” They laugh. Julian reddens and hunches a bit behind you.

“Ehem. My apologies. And you might be?” He says, and you place a steadying hand on his knee.

“This is The Fool.” You say. “And this is the Magician’s realm?” You say, glancing up to the shimmering figure. They nod.

“Correct and correct.” The Fool says. “I would have brought you to my own realm, but I’m afraid even with your help, I’m not quite strong enough to reclaim it yet.”

“The Magician’s Realm?” Julian repeats back, looking all around. “As in the Tarot card Magician? He says, taking your hand.

“Subjectively, I suppose.” Says The Fool, stretching their arms out to the side and breathing deeply. “Thanks to you two, I was restored to my own body. Some might say I’m indebted to you.” They wink. You help Julian to his feet and stand before The Fool.

“The way you spoke before-,” You say. “what did you mean you weren’t Saoirse ‘anymore’?” Julian gives you a curious look, but remains quiet as The Fool explains.

“I suppose I should start from the beginning, though I believe the Doctor already knows- or knew- a portion of this story.” The Fool makes a sudden turn towards the trees and waves a hand through the air. You give Julian a look, but he just winces as though in sudden pain- his hand quick to his temple.

“Are you okay?” You ask, covering his hand gently.

“I’m fine," He says, forcing a smile. "just a brief headache. To be expected what with the thousand foot fall.”

 

Motes of light fly to The Fool’s palm and you and Julian join them. The motes shift and change until 21 small dots all circle what you recognize from your maps as the world.

“This world is not your own- rather it is adjacent to your world- connected by emotion and magic. And living here are the 21 Arcana, the purest forms of emotions.” The Fool gives you a quick look to make sure you are still following, and you nod vigorously. “We Arcana are bound to our realm just as humans are typically bound to their own. However, as beings of pure emotion, we can form connections to people who strongly embody those same traits. Patrons of these people, we have come to be known as.” The Fool smiles warmly as the motes shift into a small outline of a person, brandishing a sword and standing tall with a broad smile

….it’s you.

You look in awe between the small figure and The Fool. “This is the relationship we share, Emsea. The Doctor too has a patron of his own, but I wouldn’t dream of spoiling someone else’s tale.” They give Julian a wink and he just stares blinking at the small figure. The shape in The Fool’s hand grows dark and flakes off into a swirling red ash, slowly taking the form of a lavishly decorated man you don’t recognize. Julian stiffens beside you.

“But, there are some who are less benevolent in their actions and desires. One in particular sought to merge the two worlds so that he might further entertain himself, an endeavor I’m ashamed to say I assisted in.” The motes shift and grow the shape into an upright goat-ish man, with eyes glowing like hot coals. The Fool darkens slightly, eyes narrowing to slits.

“The Devil abused my curiosity and the selfish nature of a powerful man. He persuaded out of me of my body and attempted a ritual that would bring the Magical Realms and the real world together permanently.” The motes of light scatter as The Fool dusts their hands together. The colors return to dancing with the leaves, and you jump as Saoirse noses their way under your hand for scritches. The Fool is solemn for a long moment before continuing.

“I stood aside, enamored at the possibility to traverse both realms freely, while The Devil removed any of the Arcana who would stand in his way. Replacing them with saps such as myself who were charmed by his promises.” The Fool smiles down at the seal, kneeling to rub dem chubby cheeks.

“But The Devil chose his compatriots poorly, and the ritual failed. My bargain had already been fulfilled, but I knew if I could find my body again, there was nothing stopping me from taking it back.” The Fool admires the shell still hanging from Saoirse’s neck. “Saoirse made a deal with me to allow me to inhabit their body if I took them away from the life they found distasteful. We waited on that island, watching as The Devil tried and tried again to hunt me down, but he never could.” The Fool stands, and takes your free hand to guide you back onto the beach. Julian and Saoirse follow faithfully, forming an odd train of apostles. Julian is quiet beside you, but you chalk this up to respectful silence.

“But you, Emsea, with your stubborn need for progress and change, found me.” They say. You frown, but keep walking.

“But I wasn’t looking for progress and change when I found Saoirse.” You say. You slow your steps, dropping The Fool's hand, and glance back to Julian. He blushes. “I was furious and upset, I was running away, not going towards something.” You say, and The Fool stops.

“Sometimes we wander with no greater motivation than our feet must move." They explain. "The Devil’s aura lingering from his search for me brought turmoil to both of your hearts and many, many more. But where others were lost, you journeyed on. You kept going, even when you wanted to stagnate and turn back. You let your curiosity at your heart’s desire guide you, and _allowed_ change to occur. That is the essence of wanderlust my friend, the unstoppable desire to grow and change, and trusting that you will like who you become.” The Fool turns to Julian, who holds their gaze steadily. You heart swells with pride.

“You too have changed, Doctor Devorak. It is no small feat to embrace the truth, no matter what that may mean. Trusting in those around you will carry you farther yet.”

Julian shifts from foot to foot.

“…..I haven’t embraced anything.” He says. “Even what's started to come back to me…”

They briefly take Julian’s hands in their own and nod.

“I’m talking about trusting that the road you desire is the right one.” They say. You stand back, just fidgeting and watching your Patron Arcana give your lover advice. The Fool turns back to you, yawns, and stretches dramatically.

“Well. As much as I’d like to accompany the pair of you back to the real world, I’m afraid I’ve overdone it a little and need to take a moment to rest. Please, make yourselves at home, but don’t wander too far. The Magical Realms can be treacherous to traverse alone, and I would hate for the two of you to be lost after making it this far.”

Julian smirks and slides an arm around your waist as The Fool sinks into the sand and stretches out on their back.

“Overdoing it and needing a nap? This really is your Patron.” Julian chides you and you dig your nails into his skin. He winces with a smile and you turn from the resting Fool, only to nearly crash into another figure who shifts and settles into view like a drop of oil in water. They rub their chin and glance from The Fool to the pair of you.

“So assuming, as always.” Says the Fox headed figure. Your hand snaps to the hilt of your dagger, but Julian steadies you. “Fear not,” The figure says. “I’ll see that they’re given all the time to rest they need.”

“Ah, the, um, Magician, I presume?” Julian says, giving his most charismatic smile. The figure grins, and it bothers you immensely that you can’t tell exactly what they’re making of all this. This animal head thing is getting a little annoying.

“Perhaps.” They say. “As they said, make yourselves at home, but don’t wander far lest you be looking for a less linear sort of adventure.” The Magician seems to glide past you and leans over the sleeping Fool like a child contemplating pulling a prank.

 

You walk to the lapping waves, hand in hand. Julian seems lost in thought while your mind swims with the seeming simplicity of it all. There’s no great battle awaiting you, no riddle to solve. You followed your instinct and that was enough. The Fool, whatever they are, is restored. On a whim, you test to see if your magic still works and draw ice to your hand.

“Yeesh!” Julian exclaims and flinches away, rubbing his hand. You stare at him blankly and then look down to the frost coating your hand.

“Whoops. Sorry. Wasn’t sure it would still work.” You say, and watch the ice melt away. Just your hand, the same as it has been.

“Was that a concern?” He says before taking your fingers in his again.

“I don’t know.” You say. You look over the dark, sparkling sea. This is a different world. You couldn’t be further from what you know, and yet it all seems rather underwhelming. Like the important part was the things you did along the way, rather than the arriving. There’s no more pull in a particular direction guiding you anymore.

“It’s a little disappointing, isn’t it?” You say with a slight laugh. “For months I’ve had such a clear drive towards… this, and now it’s done. It feels like there’s still so much I don’t understand.”

“Are you sure you want to understand?” Julian says, growing strangely serious. You search his face, but his gaze is far away.

“You’re remarkably calm for waking up in a magical realm.” You narrow your eyes. The sand grows firmer under your feet as you approach the water. Julian reddens and glances to the ground.

“…. Well. I don’t suppose there’s any point in hiding it from you.” He squeezes your hand and chews his lip a moment before letting out a great sigh. “I’m still sorting through it all, but the more time we spend here… I’ve been remembering things.”

You feel your eyes go wide.

“You remember the murder?!” You grip his arm. He could be free. He could be actually free and you’d never have to worry about him being taken away again. He startles a bit at your intensity but shakes his head.

“Unfortunately, no. But I remember visions. A figure I used to see in dreams, similar to The Fool and The Magician. I think… I think I made a deal with them.” He touches his throat. You frown.

“What did you give for it?” You look him up and down. You can’t imagine him any other way- to you, there’s never been something missing aside from peace of mind. Julian sighs and pinches his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment. They open just as the sound of a pearl tinkling, tickles your ear.

“My memories." He says. "All the memories I didn’t want.” You look over the water just in time to see the outline of a door shimmer into sight. A figure steps through wrapped in scarves of many colors. You tamp down the urge to grab your knife- so far there hasn’t been any point here. Julian’s breath stops.

“Asra?” He says, and he suddenly steps away from you.

The man in the doorway’s eyes grow wide.

“Ilya? What are you doing here?” He says. He takes notice of you, but doesn’t say anything. You feel your arm twitch towards your dagger, but Julian’s arm grabs yours before it can get there. You look to Julian’s face with questions on your lips, but you see a mix of more emotions than you expected. Asra’s gaze goes between the two of you and a knowing smile falls to his lips.

“Interesting." He says coolly. "It’s good to see you’ve moved on Ilya.” Another puzzle piece falls into place.

“Is he that magician?!” You yank your arm from Julian’s grasp, which has grown brittle in this man’s presence.

“‘That magician’?” Asra laughs, seeming wholly unconcerned. “Still telling tales I see.” With the confidence of someone who knows more than he says, Asra steps towards you, smiling softly.

“Hello. I’m sorry if this is a less than ideal circumstance for introductions. My name is Asra. The Magician.” He extends a hand in your direction, and after a quick look at Julian’s reddened face, you give it a firm shake.

“Emsea. The _pirate_.” You say. His hands are unusually soft compared to what you’re used to, though the way he carries himself betrays a power outside of brute strength. It's just a touch intimidating.

“A pirate? It all makes sense now.” He says, giving Julian another smooth look. He drops your hand and looks up the beach, where The Magician still hovers over the The Fool.

“… Is that them?” He says. You look from the beach to Asra. Your mind buzzes with questions, but you suppress them for now. Professionalism and all that.

“The Magician and The Fool.” You say. You glance to Julian, who has taken a step back from both of you with his arms crossed.

“The newly restored Fool, it would seem.” Julian says quietly. Asra begins walking up the beach, leaving you and Julian alone by the water once more. You step back to Julian’s side and watch Asra approach the figures with no hesitation. Julian watches the dark sand, cheek twitching slightly as your boots come into his view. You huff, at him, and at all these people and things you’re somehow still in the dark about. You take his face roughly in your hands, and before he has time to make a noise- kiss him. You relish the muffled squeak that comes from him as you go about business. You hold him pointedly, nipping his lip until his hands come to your waist and a small sigh escapes him. You force him to hunch slightly to your height.

“Don’t be getting any ideas.” You hiss.

“Of course not!” He says, flushing.

“Yeah.” You say, and then grab him by the collar and yank him down to kiss him again. This time he stumbles at the force and steadies himself on your shoulders. You hum against his mouth until his lips part in a groan. His arms flex around you and it’s like all the once unwanted feelings he makes you feel are are illuminated. You spend a minute reminding him where he’s at now, what he has. The warmth of his face and softening of his grip on your shoulders tells you he knows. When you release him, he remains for a moment to press another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Though, I can’t say I don’t have a few ideas now.” He says cocking a brow and grinning. You tiptoe up to kiss him one more time before leading the way back up the beach.

 

The Fool has returned to a sitting position while Asra and The Magician stand over them. The Fool flops back into the sand when they see your approach.

“Would the Devil come here to pursue them?” Asra says to The Magician.

“Do you imagine him to be the type to take surprises well?” They say. You watch Asra’s face twist in concern before he turns to you and Julian.

“Emsea, Ilya, The Fool told me it was the two of you who restored them- how exactly?” He says. You look from The Fool to Asra. Julian shifts uncomfortably beside you in Asra’s presence.

“It was just a feeling really.” You say with as much conviction as possible. How do you explain something you don’t fully grasp yourself? “You can read all about it in ThatKidRyder’s critically acclaimed fanfic, ‘Precious Booty’ on Ao3.”

Asra looks as floored as you, the reader. “What?”

“What?” You say. I give you a high five. We are best friends now.

“Anyway," You continue. “We wound up finding The Fool’s body at a Market outside Prakra, and then we found our way here.” You say. Julian nods.

“We ran into Quesator Valdemar shortly after acquiring the body.” He adds. Asra’s eyes narrow.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d suspected the courtiers were involved somehow.” He says. You look between the two of them. There’s a tension you’d expect, but something more too. Something beyond you. Something you weren’t there for.  
“Is this all somehow connected to what happened in Vesuiva?” You say.

“That certainly seems to be the case.” Asra says, scowling.

“Very astute.” The Magician says with a coy smile. Asra dives into a more detailed version of the tale Julian's told you in parts: The Plague that wiped a third of the population, the obnoxious count who fell ill and would do anything for a cure, all leading up to a forgotten ritual with an incomplete 21 attendants.

“And the empty seats were for the missing Arcana?” Julian asks.

“For their counterparts, more likely.” Asra says, brow slightly furrowed. “Have you remembered, Ilya?”

Julian winces again and presses his temples. He nods slowly, and you watch with rapt attention.

“It’s coming back to me.” He says slowly, and then looks in horror at Asra. “All of those empty chairs, Lucio did all of that?” You touch Julian’s arm and his hand quickly comes to hold yours.

“Not alone.” The Fool speaks up. “We Arcana are bound by the desires of mortals, though that isn’t to say we don’t have our own idle curiosities. The Devil had help- deals upon deals- with me, with mortals, with anyone desperate enough to listen. But although he can’t outright lie, there are usually… loopholes.” The Fool smiles to themselves. “ Usually loopholes in his favor, but deals are made with two sides. I agreed to give up my body-but I never promised I wouldn’t accept it if someone gave it back.” They twitch their whiskers at you. You smile. If this Patron thing is real, you’re glad you like yours.

“But that’s not to say he’s the type to take transgression well.” The Magician frowns. “I’d imagine we’ll be hearing from him soon… you three have some decisions to make.”

You, Asra, and Julian nod solemnly.

“They’re right.” Asra says. “If Valdemar is still skulking about, it’s almost a guarantee the Devil is still attempting to rally a force in Vesuvia…” He looks sadly at you, almost too quickly for you to notice. “Ilya, could I speak with you for a moment?” Julian stares at Asra. You give his hand a quick squeeze.

“Of course, Asra.” He says. You smile and send him off as Asra strides down the beach. You feel a wet snoot pushing up under your hand, and reach down to scratch Saoirse’s neck and chest. They groan appreciatively and your expression grows sad.

“Will Saoirse being staying here with you?” Look to the two Arcana. The Magician smiles.

“I wonder.” They say, unhelpfully.

“Saoirse is free from the life they chose to leave. They may go where they please.” The Fool says easily. You look in your seal’s dark eyes.

“Were will you go? Though I suppose you can’t tell me…” You lift the small conch necklace from Saoirse's neck and rub your thumb over the sea worn surface. They close their muzzle around the shell.

Fweeeeeeeeet.

 

When Julian and Asra return, Julian stops a little ways from the group and gestures to you. Your heart pounds in your chest, despite a kind smile from Asra. As you walk down the beach you notice a lavender snake slither out from his sleeve around Saoirse’s shoulders.

Julian extends his hand with a tired smile as you approach, and you forego it to wrap your arms around him. He looks exhausted for having been gone ten minutes.

You walk along the water’s edge for a while. Further down the shoreline, the seal colony rolls about in the surf. Julian takes a deep breath in.

“At least it smells like home here.” Julian says. He takes your hand and raises it to his lips. You smile and press yourself against him. You can hear his heart hammering in his chest. His arms come around your back and grip you tight. He breaths in your hair and lets out a shuddering sigh.

“Could I be selfish? Could I keep being selfish?” He says sadly. You rest your head against his. You try and think of something romantic to say, something archaic and meaningful.

“….”

He sighs and looks down at you. You look right back up at him.

“What did you talk with Asra about?” You say quietly.

“He thinks the Red Plauge is coming back.” He says. You stare up at him, listening. Taking in the parts of his life that you missed. “And he has reason to believe the Count is too.”

“Sounds serious.” You say plainly. If you could freeze the world to stay in this moment… you might have. A long while ago.

“…. I need to go back to Vesuvia.” He says. “Whatever’s happening there- whatever _happened_ there- if I don’t go now, I might never get the chance again.” He stares up into the starry sky before looking back to you. “There might not _be_ a Vesuvia.”

You run your hands up and down his arms. Arms that you pushed and pulled and wrapped around yourself. Arms that protected you and held you back- that you resented. You’ve gotten so used to him being near.

“But you’ll come back.” You say, and you blink a bit of wetness from your eye and smile up at him. It hurts. It hurts because he’ll be in danger- danger that you’ve warned him against over and over again. But his life isn’t yours to live or control. Of course you’re crying- you love him. His lips twitch into a hard frown at your tears and he presses his face into your hair as he hugs you.

“I’ll always come back.” He says, and you hear his voice choke on the words. His back trembles under your arms and you tighten your jaw as you push your face into his neck. He shudders and takes shaky breaths. You hold him firm.

“I’ll help, in any way that I can.” You tell him. “I’ll tell the Captain, I’ll tell the crew, and we’ll come and find you.” He straightens up and where you would have expected a stark rejection, you see a smile under his teary eyes.

“I would like that.” He says. “I would be so grateful to have your support.” You kiss him, and love is salty on your lips. You’ll miss him. You’ll worry and get angry at things you can’t know. You’ll get so excited waiting to see him again, and be heartbroken if he’s gone for good. You smile and wipe a tear from his cheek. Your hand lingers there a moment longer.

“How did you get so brave without me noticing?” You say. He chuckles lightly. The droplets on his eyelashes sparkle like stars.

“The same way you did.” His hands move from your back, up over your front and pull your face nearly flush to his. “I love you so much.” His voice is a whisper onto your lips and you close the space to kiss him. Loving has been so different from what you thought it would be.

 

As you walk back up the beach, you squeeze his hand one last time as he leans down to kiss your hair. He steps away to join Asra, and the white haired magician nods before trotting over to you. He grasps your hand and presses his palm against it. When you look, glowing letters and numbers appear.

“That’s the address of my Magic Shop. I’ll help Ilya into hiding as soon as we get there, so if you need to get in touch, come here.” He waves his hand over the address and it disappears, only to reappear with another pass. You disappear the markings once more and clasp his shoulder. This seems to jar him, but he puts on a brave face.

“Thank you, Asra.” You smile. Saoirse grunts at your side. The Magician and The Fool move their arms in a glowing arc, and two doors appear. One looks identical to the Infirmary back on the ship, while the other bears runes you’ve only seen in your books. You run your hand over the familiar wood grain.

“Where are they?” You ask, turning to The Fool. They think for a moment.

“About two days from the Island.” They say. You nod and catch Julian staring back at you while Asra shares a few more riddles with The Magician. He smiles wistfully as Asra pulls the door open and the muffled sounds of a busy market spill through. You grip the salt worn handle before you and mouth words unspoken to him. Saorise stands ready at your side. As you both step towards the next part of your journey, there is sorrow, and nerves. There are promises to be kept and friends to be leaned upon, and you know everything will be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That's that. This is what happened when I realized there was an eager audience for some dumb pirate adventures. This was my first published multi-chapter fic, and the response to it has been humbling as well as encouraging. There will be an epilogue, which will be raunchy, since this wound up having a lot less sex in it than i originally assumed and I want to get a little more of that in the big FINISH.
> 
> I'm sure I'm not done in the Arcana fandom quite yet, though I have been sitting on a RDR2 fic for quite a while that I'd like to get moving on. If folks are interested I might include some general notes about the process of writing 'Precious Booty', or feel free to ask questions in comments or over on Tumblr https://thatkidryder.tumblr.com/


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